Burning Brightly
by izure
Summary: Sam is injured in a car accident, and how SG-1, namely Jack, deal with it.
1. Chapter 1

BURNING BRIGHTLY

**_Chapter One._ **

**_Author: _**Izure Angel 

****

**_Summary:_** Sam is injured in a car accident. 

**_Genre:_** S/J romance, angst, drama, some humour. 

_**Disclaimer:**_ Stargate and its characters are not mine. I just hijacked them for a while and screwed with their minds and lives. I'll have them back in one piece... more or less. 

**_Authors Note:_** This is told from various points of view, and is an experiment with writing in the first person. I know I haven't got the characters right, but please bare with me and I'm always grateful for advice! 

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**_SAM: _**

I try not to listen to the argument, but it gets into my head, pounding its way through the headache that already rages there. So I snap. 

"Daniel, it doesn't matter whether Colonel O'Neill agrees with your views on the Frevian belief in the afterlife or not. No matter what you say he's still going to keep going at you because THAT'S what this is about, not what happens after you die."

Daniel looks up in shock, as does Jack, and both are looking at me. I stalk on ahead up the path, realising what I just did and how petty and stupid it sounded, but right now not caring about anything beyond the thought of getting home and going to bed. The treaty we just negotiated with the Frevian Governor has taken seven days to sort out, seven days of tedious negotiations with power-mongers who had picked over every little inaccuracy and twisted it to their own ends. Last night had seen the close of negotiations, relatively meaning a small celebration had been held. Actually meaning a room full of the same power-hungry bureaucrats making snide remarks hidden beneath layers of simpering courtesy and nauseating politeness and topped with a drink called 'Altheum' that was supposedly non-alcoholic, but packed a wallop like a bottle of Black Douglas. Jack drank five glasses of the stuff with no effect. Daniel had fallen over a table after the first and spent the rest of the night giggling and swapping jokes with a religious leader, and Teal'c had, of course, refrained with a viable excuse. 

As far as I remember, I only had two glasses out of politeness. I DO remember feeling a little weird, but after that I've got one long, terrifying blank until I woke up this morning in our suite, stiff and sore and with a headache that could kill a person. And the trek back to the Stargate seems to be taking a lot longer than it should be. 

Thankfully as I round a bend in the track I find myself before the five-foot ring nestled in the green trees. I dial the coordinates for home and bed, and the grating of the ring moving into place and locking in the coordinates that sets a fire storming through my head. As the gate snaps into being the others round the bend. Jack and Daniel are still sharing astonished looks as we climb the dais and step through the event horizon. 

General Hammond is standing at the base of the ramp. "How'd it go, people?" he asks. 

Jack gives a haphazard salute. "It was... long, sir. Got to have a nice little party when it was all done, though. Do you think our agreement to ally with the Frevians will include access to beverages...?" 

"We succeeded in our mission, GeneralHammond." Teal'c re-states. "The Frevians have agreed to aid us in our fight against the Goa'uld." 

"Excellent." Hammond replied, leading us out of the gateroom and down the hallway. "I believe you are all scheduled for some downtime."

"That's right, sir!" Jack chirps, looking ecstatic at the thought. "Anyone up for some fishing?"

I wish he would stop speaking. I never realised how loud his voice is. To tell the truth, hell, for once I'm actually looking forwards to some leave. 

"Major Carter?" Hammond turns to me, and I flinch instinctively. "Are you alright? You look ill. Maybe you should have Dr Fraiser check you out."

"I'm alright." I say, thickly. "I'm just tired."

"After all the NEGOTIATING," Jack adds, glancing in my direction with that deadpan look that says he means more than he's saying. "Carter consumed a little too much liquid gold."

Hammond frowns. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Dr Fraisier is still here."

"I'm fine." I say, trying to act as if every word isn't shaking the foundations of the building and that I am, in fact, standing on a solid floor. "I just need some rest."

We arrive at the elevator and Daniel keys the button. Hammond nods. "Well, if you're sure. I'll see you all in four days."

The movement of the elevator does nothing to calm my stomach, which is convinced that any food I consumed last night no longer needs to stay there. I press back against the wall and try to avoid clamping my hands over my ears to block out the sound of the damn fluorescent lighting. Jack is now regaling Daniel with the joys of fishing and his cabin in Minnesota, and pointedly ignoring Teal'cs comments about the lack of fish caught when he had accompanied Jack last time. 

We reach the blessed top floor and I tumble out of the elevator with joy at being on solid ground once more. 

Jack goes one way, having failed to convince either Daniel or Teal'c to join him in Minnesota, as the other two head the other way. I look around for my car. It is night here on Earth, something that is hard to adjust to after the bright morning sunshine on P3X925, or Frevia Four. The night is cold, and I pull my jacket tight against the wind that has picked up. The trees toss their leaves about in a swaying dance as I make my way across the brightly lit car park. I slide into the car and pull the door shut. 

I flick the ignition once. The engine kicks over, then dies. Once more. The engine makes a grinding sound, but fails to start. I slap my hands against the steering wheel in frustration. As if on cue, specks of rain begin to mark the windscreen, making my day just that much better. 

I rest my head on my crossed arms. My head pounds with a headache, and I'm incredibly tired. I'm also two hours drive from home. 

Someone taps on the window, and I jump in fright. The Colonels face appears. I closed my eyes, calming my heartbeat as I wind down the window. 

"Car won't start." I say thickly. "I thought you left, sir."

"Actually, I just needed some air. Damn bureaucrats seem to make me feel queasy. Come on," he motions. "I'll give you a lift. Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here the night."

"Actually, I think I could sleep anywhere right now." I say with what smile I can manage. "But thanks."

I lock my car, grabbing my bag and laptop carry case, then follow Jack back through the car park. His car is comfortable and cosily warm. I settle into the velour seat and feel as if I will never move again. "Are you okay?" he asks. 

I shake my head, sending things tilting at crazy angles. "Just tired. Its been a long time since I had a decent sleep, and that stuff didn't help. I'll just be glad to get home."

"I know the feeling." Jack reverses the car out of the park, sliding a ticket into the machine and driving through the exit as the barrier raised, then pulling out onto the road. "That guy was hitting on you, you know." 

"What guy?" I ask, frowning. I don't remember any guys. 

"Senator Mela... bola... sen." he enunciates. 

"Senator Melabinsan?" What's he talking about? I remember talking to him last night, but he certainly wasn't HITTING on me. At least... "He was not." I mutter. "He was talking to me." 

Jack nods, saying nothing but accelerating hard. I feel myself pressed back in the seat. I had never liked Jacks driving habits- a car for him is not a means of conveyance from point A to B, but rather a means of getting there as quickly as possible. 

"Daniel seemed to be enjoying himself." I break the silence. 

"Daniel made a new friend. They spent the night discussing the afterlife." He makes a snap lane change, pulling out around a late logging truck. "Which he then tried to convince me was incredibly interesting." 

I'm not going to apologise for snapping, I tell myself, busy preventing my hands from clenching to white knuckled tension. Instead I focus on the passing dark silhouettes of the trees. THAT GUY WAS HITTING ON ME... admittedly, I'm flattered, though a little uneasy. The senator is older than me by about five or six standard years, but quite good looking. "What did you mean, my negotiations?"

"Senator Mela-bina-whatsits." He grins. "Took quite a fancy to you." 

I shake my head, trying to curl up on myself. "This is the bit I cant remember, isn't it."

Jack does a good job of keeping the smirk of his face, though he does look as if he's swallowed something nasty. "Don't worry, Major. I make it a priority," Now he's smirking. "You know, to make sure none of my subordinates get laid during missions." 

Oh, God. I think I'm going to be sick. 

*~*~*~*~* 

_**JACK: **_

Sam looks miserable. To be expected, I suppose, but still. I've never seen her drunk before, and I'll make sure it's a while before I let her live it down. If ever. 

Of course, I won't tell her about the pulling that sleazy senator off her and smacking him one in the jaw so hard he was spitting teeth and blood. I won't tell anyone about that. I may have jeopardised the treaty, but frankly, I don't care. Safety of my team first and all that. 

Hell, who am I kidding? Safety of CARTER first. Because I wasn't smacking out the priest Daniel was getting all giggly with, was I? And yet it took Teal'c to pull ME off Mela...lina... whatever. 

I sigh, giving Carter a sideways glance. She's gazing out the window, and looking decidedly sick and worried. I should say something to put her at ease, but I'm not good at this stuff. I never know what to say. 

"Look, Carter," I start, but she turns to face me and... shit, that better be the dim light. Carter doesn't cry, so those cant be tears making her eyes shine like that. But I don't get to look again, because she's facing away from me just as quickly. 

Shit. 

"I'm sorry." I say, sounding lame and knowing it. "I shouldn't have said that crap. You know, it wasn't so bad. You had too much to drink, and-" Oh, shut up, I tell myself. You're only making things worse. 

I concentrate on driving. I drop my speed back a bit because my attention is now not fully on what's ahead, more on what's right next to me. Carter must be feeling pretty damn bad right now, what with the hangover and all. So I stay silent, biting down all the niceties that come into my head, knowing they won't make her feel any better. The mountain road curves from side to side, steep cliff on the left, sharp drop on the right. I've driven this road a million times, know the way by heart. 

I'm just feeling nearly as bad as she must be right now. She doesn't remember, and she wasn't exactly in a clear state of mind at the time. At the time she was sticking her GODDAM TONGUE DOWN HIS THROAT-- 

I'm not. I'm not jealous. I'm simply worried about her. I'm just glad I was in the right place at the right time; that is, following them when that creep led her out of the audience chamber, out to the hallway. Finding him pressing her up against the wall with one hand around her waist and the other in her hair... and she... before I... 

Shit. 

  


This isn't helping. What I really need to do is get up to the cabin. Then I can relax, forget about all this stuff for a while. Catch some fish. Or not. 

"Sure you don't want to come fishing?" I say at last. 

She smiles, I think, but her voice is kinda shaky, which isn't good. "I just want to sleep." 

"Got a good bed in the cabin." I kick myself when I realise what that sounds like. "I mean, I could take the couch..." 

"I know what you meant, Jack." Another smile, and wait, did she just call me Jack? 

I take the next corner wide, speeding up again. 

"I don't know." she says at last. 

Okay, it's a maybe. I won't press the point, because I don't need her to know that my heart speeds when she says that. Because she's my subordinate. I do not want to get her up to the woods so that I can show her she doesn't need scum like Mely-dooly and non-alcoholic alcohol to-

SHIT!! 

Another car- and trees. Yank the wheel left then right, but it doesn't matter because I'm too damn slow. And the other car is there, and I mean RIGHT FRIGGING THERE and Carter yells, a short, strangled sound. Glass breaks without a sound because suddenly everything is pure silence while the world shatters around us. Tiny granules of safety-glass sprinkle like rain and I snap forwards in my seat. The seatbelt cuts into my forwards motion, snapping me back, flinging me sideways. 

And a sharp edge pokes into me, something that shouldn't be there is now there. Another car is right there, and its pushing the door into me, and sliding the car across the rain-soaked road. Dark trees whip past in the white glow of headlights as we spin, then with a slight jolt we are sideways and the cloudy dark sky is the left window while the trees fall over horizontal. 

And I'm dead. 

Aren't I? 

"Carte..." I try to say, but there's something in my mouth that chokes off the words. I cough, and again, and I feel warmth trickling down my chin. "Carter? Carter?"

I shake my head to clear my vision, but all that does is slow the frame-rate of the signals from my eyes to my brain. Everything is startlingly clear, but like a computer game on high resolution graphics when your hard drive is too full, it moves jerkily. It's too fucking dark in here. 

Okay, okay. Think, Jack. This should be easy. First thing is to get away from the car. Petrol tank leaking equals great big whopping fireball tearing through bone and flesh and ending what isn't too bad a life real quick. No. First thing is getting out of car. With self dangling from seatbelt while car is on side, no easy task. And when every movement seems to be taking longer than it should, that means I might be outta here by, oh, tomorrow? 

I ease my hand down to the seatbelt release. Jeez, that hurts! Its like I've got shards of glass stuck in my wrist. I grit my teeth and hiss with pain as I push the button. The seatbelt snaps back, and leaves me to fall against the shattered windscreen and mangled dashboard, sliding down towards the other end of the car. A dark shape in the passenger seat, unmoving. Carter's shape. 

Not moving isn't good. Okay, okay. Carter, I'm gonna get you out, okay? I think I said that, only I don't know because I think my hearing is gone. I manoeuvre myself around, bracing my foot against the seat so that I'm facing her. She's slumped against the window, which is now pressed against the leaf-littered ground. Blood streaks her face in dark rivulets, and her eyes are closed, her hand curled up against her cheek like she's sleeping. I check for a pulse, but my hands are shaking so badly I cant feel anything anyway. 

I unclasp her seatbelt, ready to try and make good on my promise to get her out of here. But what if she's got spinal damage? Doc Fraisier's told me time and time again that moving a person with spinal damage can be dangerous. If not fatal. Shit. Shit shit shit. 

Janet. 

Where's my phone? Where's my pocket gone? Ah. Okay. Number... shit, I cant for the life of me think of the number. Thank the Lord and whoever invented speed-dial. I garble something to the administration, and something else to whoever I get through to. General Hammond, Doc Fraisier, God. Right now they're all one and the same, and by the time any one of them reaches us Sam could already be dead. I cant even see what's wrong with her, how bad she's hurt. I stroke her blonde hair back from her lifeless face. 

Somewhere in my brain is a little area that is totally isolated from the rest of me, a tiny little space where no emotion exists, no adrenaline, only pure, uninhibited rational thought. That little part of my brain has saved me time and again. I love that little part of my brain. It allows me to kick the shattered sagging windscreen outwards, where it flops to the ground still held together. I squeeze myself through the crumpled window and onto the ground, which is where I realise that the world is the wrong way up. I nearly fall over as I stand. Rain drenches me instantly and I don't notice. Because somewhere down the slope something is burning brightly, a huge flame of orange and ruby throwing sparks into the air and billowing smoke where the rain hits it. Because punctured petrol tank equals fireball providing flickering light by which to see Sam lying motionless and bleeding, and my not being able to do a thing about it except hold her hand and tell her help is coming. 

Help comes in the form of Doc Fraisier herself, heading a team of medical staff that swarm the site. I'm still holding Sam's hand when Janet mouths that I'm obstructing the medical team and can I move, goddammit, so they can cut her free of the wreckage. Then she is on a stretcher, strapped tight and an oxygen mask is settled across her face, catching a strand of her blond hair beneath the rim. Red and blue lights, and people speaking without making a sound. A hand on my shoulder and a wad of tissues pressed into my hand before I realise that my own face is wet with Sam's blood and my tears, unknowingly shed and unseen in the rain. 

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I know, long chapter. I'll put up the next chapter if this gets any reviews. Constructive criticism always welcome! 

~*IzureAngel*~


	2. Chapter 2

**BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Two: _

__

Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, I truly thought I would be able to do it quicker than this but it didn't work out that way… 

Wow! :) Thanks for all the great reviews people. Thanks for the heads up, Raylenth you're right, they should have been debriefed and checked in the infirmary and I appreciate your pointing it out. 

**Disclaimer: ** Did I say I'd give the characters back in one piece? Well, there might be a problem with that... still the characters aren't mine though. 

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_DANIEL_: 

"The Egyptians believed in an afterlife, in the reincarnation and the transmigration of the soul. The reason for embalming the bodies of the deceased was so that it would be preserved on its journey with _ka, _which is the force that is counterpart of the body, like what we call a soul. Pythagoras, he was an ancient Greek philosopher and mathematician, taught that the soul was immortal and merely resided in the body, hence the idea that the soul survives death. In this theory the soul continues on a circle of reincarnation and transmigration until bodily impurities have been removed. The Frevian culture seems to have developed along these lines, with the concept akin to the Christian belief of heaven and hell -, Teal'c? Am I boring you?" 

Teal'c cranes his head around to face me through the doorway from the living room, where he is seated on the only armchair that isn't covered in books and papers and other odds and ends I haven't found places for yet- or in the past year or so. "I find the concept of an afterlife intriguing, DanielJackson. However, I am not sure our meal is supposed to give off such a scent." 

I notice a faint smell in the air and hurry over to the oven, pulling out a rather over-cooked roast and burning my hands through the teatowel in the process. Ouch. 

"Do you require assistance?" 

"Nope, Im fine." Not. I poke at the roast with a fork. If its possible that something that is already dead could die again, I think I just managed it. "You don't mind... um... well-done food, do you?" 

Teal'c enters the kitchen, his eyebrow rising at the sight of the poor wreck of a meal. Nevertheless, he helps me to spoon some potatoes onto plates and set the table. He chews at a section of the roast. "I do believe you have reduced the meat to its most basic carbon compound." he says, still with that damn eyebrow raised. 

"Sorry." I apologise. "Guess I got a little carried away ..." I poke at my blackened and crispy meal for a moment before deciding that coffee is a better alternative. I pour myself and Teal'c a mug, and I've just taken a sip when the phone rings. "I'll just get that," I say into my mug and set it down. The ringing continues its shrill insistence that I do in fact HAVE a phone while I pull books and papers off the place where I judge the sound to be coming from. 

"Um, yeah, Daniel Jackson." I say. 

There is a slight pause at the other end. It's probably General Hammond, cutting short our break for some emergency or other. Not that I'd mind, because most of my important research equipment and material is at Cheyenne mountain, and Hammond had to practically order me off-base before I would leave it even for four days. So I brace myself to hear the words that Im needed back there. They don't come. 

Instead, a clipped voice introduces herself as Dr Something-or-Other at the Air Force Academy Hospital and proceeds to verify that I am, in fact, Doctor Daniel Jackson. "Im afraid I have to tell you that a member of your team was bought in this evening with severe injuries. We're not sure of the extent as yet, but we were told you would need to be informed." 

All this delivered in the space of three seconds in cold monotone by someone used to saying these words. Me, not used to hearing them, asking her for verification; 

"Im sorry. What?" 

"A-" slight pause. "Major Samantha Carter. Yes, she's in critical condition, unconscious since her arrival." 

Wait, wait! What's going on? "How? I - I mean, how did this happen?" 

"Car accident." the crisp voice shows a crack in it for a moment. "Third one tonight. Damn shame." 

A car accident? What? No, they cant be talking about SAM here... I just saw her. She wasn't unconscious then, well, actually she was snapping at Jack for arguing with me. Which is strange because, considering that my arguments with Jack are pretty much a given in any situation that involves discussing culture or historical elements or anything else that requires him to think outside of whatever tiny little box his career-military mind is framed in, ends up with us going head to head. But definitely not in a car accident. I put the receiver down and look blankly at Teal'c. All we have to do is go down to the hospital and sort out this mistake. 

"What is wrong, DanielJackson?" 

I gesture to the phone and do a great impression of my goldfish. I shake my head and motion to the door. "Um," I manage. "We have to, um, go..." Why the freakin' hell is it so hard to speak? Teal'c, thankfully, is quick to catch on. He steers me towards the door, flicking out the lights and locking the door behind us, and two minutes later Im driving us through the rain-slicked streets, thoughts tearing around in my head madly. I inform Teal'c in monosyllabic sounds what the nurse told me. Then I make some garbled reference to mistakes being made, records being switched or some goddam thing that makes more sense than Sam being unconscious in hospital. 

  


_JACK_: 

Oh, man. I feel as if I've been on an all-night bender that included drinking heavy spirits, garden fertiliser and gasoline, walking across hot coals and ended with being thrown under a passing train, just for effect. What the fuck did I do last night? 

I open my eyes and instantly regret the effort as brilliant white light stabs down. I don't have lights in my house like that. Im not the type of cruel, heartless bastard that would torture people just for fun by burning their eyes out. Not just for FUN, anyway. 

Okay, so not at home. I give the whole eye-opening thing another shot, managing to see a bright white ceiling this time. A clean, smooth surface that confirms Im not at my house. I turn my head to one side, and find a white wall, adorned with a few empty shelves and a small cabinet. I turn my head to the other side, seeing a cream-coloured curtain. Like a hospital. 

Shit. I sit upright abruptly, banging my hand on the cabinet which hurts a hell of a lot more than it should. I stare at it, noticing the bandage for the first time. My other hand has been similarly interfered with, and a clear tube runs from the back of it up to an IV stand. 

Now I remember. A car crash. Sliding... blood, and pain, and a strand of blonde hair caught under an oxygen mask. Sam! 

Oh, no. No no no. An icy needle drives itself into my brain, twisting its way deeper while I press a hand to my forehead. She cant be dead, because Sam cant die. Not like that. I silence the little voice that sings 'just like Charlie couldn't...' and slide my legs over the edge of the bed. Every movement hurts like the dickens, and a sharp tug at my wrist reminds me Im attached to something. The IV drip. For some reason, though my body aches in a thousand different little places, peeling the clear strip holding the needle in feels like someone peeling my skin off with a blunt stanley knife. I yank the needle out and stand. Then sit again while I wait patiently for the world to decide that it does obey the laws of gravity and I haven't suddenly started floating off in zero g. 

I then realise that Im wearing a hospital gown. Oh yes. One of those lovely little numbers thought up by doctors to further the indignity of being sick or in pain by exposing a line of flesh down your back from your neck to your knees. And I've never looked good in pale blue. 

I waver to the curtains edge, holding the fabric of my gown together behind me at waist height. I pull the curtain aside. There's a row of curtained cubicles, no doubt holding more poor suckers like me. I aim for the door, almost miss, but get through it out into a hallway lined with more doors. 

I thread my way down the corridor, holding onto the nice solid wall for support. 

'Colonel O'Neill." A voice cuts through the air, a sharp bark that could match General Hammond's dulcet tones any day. I almost snap a 'yes, sir!' until I turn and see that it's a nurse. The angry glare she gives me could melt a glacier. "You are NOT supposed to be out of bed." 

"Im not." I say, instinctively, my voice sounding raw and hoarse. "That is... I mean..." 

She raises a hand, pointing back to the room I just spent so much energy trying to get out of. "Back. Now." 

"I need to..." My voice gives out on me, and I cough. "Carter." 

Her glare softens. "Major Samantha Carter." she sighs, and an accommodating expression comes over her face. "Very well, come on." 

She takes my arm to hold me up, and Im too busy using the other hand to make sure that the world doesn't get a front-row view of my arse to protest as we walk very slowly down the corridor. She opens a door, and leads me inside, saying as she did so that "Although she is unconscious, her EEG reveals rather higher than normal neural activity and nerve response. The cause or effects of this are unidentifiable, but her blood analysis should give us some clue."

Unlike the room I awoke in, this one is private, a single bed in a wide expanse of open floor. The room is too big for the impossibly small shape lying prone beneath the white sheet, tubes clamped over her nose and a drip feeding her. A monitor keeps the time with soft beeps, and her chest rises and falls rhythmically. Her face is so pale. I've seen faces that pale before, but only on dead people. She's got a bandage across her head, and its dark with a seeping stain. I was short of breath before. Now I just quit breathing altogether. 

_"Jack."_

I whirl on the man with the urgent, strained voice. Daniel, Teal'c by his side enter the room. "Oh my God, Sam." he says, almost as pale as she is. 

I have an odd habit off hugging the crap out of Daniel, and this is one of those times when I do just that. Teal'c's hand settles on my shoulder. 

"They told us you were driving." Daniel says, through a mouthful of my hospital gown. Im not letting go, because if I do Im just going to slide to the floor. "You're lucky you weren't killed."

_I was driving._.. 

For some reason, it hasn't hit me yet. I was driving the car. _I was driving the damn car. _

"Colonel O'Neill will need to accompany me back to his bed now." the nurse says, and Teal'c and Daniel walk me back there, none of us saying anything until the nurse clears them out so that I can get some sleep. Yeah, right. I stare up at the bright ceiling. _I was_... 

I clench my injured fist, making the fracture sing with pain. I hit it against the cabinet deliberately. _I was driving..._ Again, harder, gritting my teeth and welcoming the pain. 

_I was driving..._

_JACK:_

It's night-time when I wake, and I don't remember having gone to sleep. The pillow is uncomfortably hard, the sheets are unfamiliarly stiff. I feel cold, but the blanket doesn't seem to help. There's a light on in the hallway, spilling golden through the glass window in the door, and a hacking cough from beyond the cream curtain separating the next cubicle from mine shakes the last vestiges of sleep from my mind. 

Someone, probably Daniel, was thoughtful enough to bring some of my clothes from home, including a bathrobe which I slip on before using all of my special ops training to evade the nurses and night staff and make my way down the half-lit corridors to the Intensive Care wing. 

She's still lying there. 

I pull a seat up next to the bed, listening to the rhythmic throb of Sam's vital signs. A sudden sound makes me look up, but its Daniel slipping in through the door. 

"Sorry." He says, seeing me. "I, um, I couldn't sleep." 

"Me neither." I say, staring at Carter's still form. 

"Are you okay? I mean, I know that's a stupid question and all, but really, do you feel alright?" 

I lean my head in my arms, taking a deep breath. "No." 

"If you want to talk or anything..." 

"I don't wanna talk." I reply, sitting in silence for a few moments. "Its stupid. Its so goddam stupid. Think of the threats we've faced. We've saved the planet countless times. We've saved countless planets countless times. And this-" I wave my hand at my motionless 2IC. "THIS is how Carter dies?" 

As soon as the words have left my mouth I know that this is bad, but I keep going. "We've faced death so many times. I've stood there and seen my own death. Seen the deaths of people I care about. But Carter? Like this..." 

"So what, you want a heroic death?" Daniel asks innocently, jumping as I whirl on him in anger. "No, don't get me wrong. My experience with the military is that death in service of your country is a 'noble sacrifice'. A worthy sacrifice…" 

"NO." That's not what I meant. But what do I mean? The thought of a debate with Daniel lacks its usual appeal. Im too tired. Rubbing my eyes, I go on. "I don't want her to die, Daniel. There's always a back door, you know? A last minute solution. Something that manages to keep us all alive and together. Something that saves our arses." 

Daniels face is pale in the leaking light through the window. He looks as buggered as I no doubt do, eyes underlined with black smudges, hair tousled and shoulders slumped. Somehow I cant say what I mean to say. That there might not be any back door out of this one. That this might be it. 

That Im scared. 

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Hmm, Im afraid this chapter is a bit boring, but the next one will be better and will be up soon so please please please keep reading and reviewing, k?

NB: I put Sam and Jack in the same hospital Jacob Carter was in during 'Tokra' and has been used and referred to a few times in the show. Whether or not this is where she would be, I have no idea. My knowledge of these things is sadly lacking and born entirely of what I see on TV, because I don't know much about locations etc in the U.S. I also don't know much about medicine and comas apart from what I see on TV and researched on the Internet so Im only pretending. Any inaccuracies are unintentional.

~*IzureAngel*~ 


	3. Chapter 3

**BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Three_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Stargate or its characters.

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_SAM:_

I'm sleeping, but I'm awake and screaming. I know there's someone out there and they have to hear me eventually. 

I hope. 

The darkness is total, complete. I can't see anything at all, which is the worst part because it means I have nothing to work with. I can feel something beneath me, a flat hard surface that stretches in every direction for as far as I can reach. 

I can hear; someone says "There is something strange..." 

The voice echoes as if off metal walls and distorts beyond recognition. I call out for them to hear me but there is no answer and all falls silent once more. The darkness is starting to get more than annoying. 

"...about the substance in her bloodstream..." 

"Hello?" I call. "Can anyone hear me?" 

I've been imprisoned before, been in these situations before- but never have I ever felt so completely alone. Its as if its just me and the disembodied voice. Has the whole of whichever world I'm on been obliterated, leaving nothing but darkness and me? 

"...I cant match it with anything I've ever seen before..." 

It sounds strangely like Janet, but the voice is distorted enough that it could be anyone. 

"Where am I?" I yell in frustration. "Why have you bought me here?" I hate that I can hear a thread of panic in my voice. I shouldn't be letting my emotions take control; I've been trained against that. I need to keep my head if I'm going to get out of here. 

"...I need to run a few more tests..." 

"Who's there? What do you want?" 

Give me a response, give me something. Please. 

"Samantha Carter." 

My head snaps up towards the area the voice came from, but of course I can't see a thing. The voice sounds different now, as if its closer, and softer, deeper. I keep very still, though I know that's foolish- they know I'm here, there's no point pretending. 

"Who are you?" 

  


There is no answer. "Hello!" I shout to the darkness. "Hello? Who are you? Why am I here?" 

"CARTER! GET DOWN!" 

I whirl on Colonel O'Neill, my feet skidding on the damp undergrowth. I'm blinded by the sudden light, and a bright light flashes across my vision painfully, exploding against a nearby tree. I go down hard, grabbing for my gun. 

"What the hell are you doing?!" O'Neill hisses from my left elbow, crouched behind a low shrub. "When I say stay low, its usually for a reason." he gripes. 

"Sorry sir." I gasp, sighting my P-90 at the group of approaching Jaffa. 

A noise from behind has us both scrambling around before Teal'c emerges from the bushes on his stomach, staff weapon at the ready. "There are four contingents of five, two to the left and one to the right, Colonel O'Neill. The last is directly behind us." 

"Directly." Daniel adds, nodding. "As in directly. Right-" he points- "there." 

"Right." O'Neill mutters. "Teal'c, Daniel, take the behind. Carter, right then join me left. Go." 

I crawl awkwardly, trying not to make a sound. The damp ground soaks up through my uniform as I sight the five Jaffa down the hill. I fire two rounds and two go down. The others duck behind nearby trees and return fire. Zat blasts crackle over the tree trunks. I sight another and fire, missing him completely. I feel... strange. Somehow I've been here, in this moment, before. My mind works quickly. Could I be experiencing some sort of temporal anomaly? It's happened before. But that doesn't explain the transition between... wherever I was... and here. 

I send the last three falling and scramble back towards Jack's position. I can hear Teal'c and Daniel's fire from behind as I drop beside the Colonel and aim. 

"Is something wrong, Major?" he says, not taking his eyes off his targets. 

"No sir." I reply automatically. "Well, yes, there is." I fire a burst that splinters tree bark but nothing else. "Sir? I was just in a dark room. Then I was here." 

"Carter, that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. We've been pinned down by these Jaffa for close to two hours now, and if there was anything even resembling a room, dark or not, I think I would have noticed. Are you feeling alright?" 

I look down towards the Jaffa. "No, sir." I say. 

O'Neill sends the last of the Jaffa toppling. "Have Janet check you out when we get back."

"Sir-" 

The forest fades to darkness and I feel cold hard floor again. "Sir?" 

"Samantha Carter." The disembodied voice repeats. 

"What's happening to me?" I whisper, then a jolt of blinding pain shoots up my leg. "Ah!" I gasp, clutching at it. 

"Welcome." 

I cant answer, it hurts too much. I grit my teeth and try to breathe. 

"You are wondering where you are and why you are here. That is to be expected, as you did not enter the Ethera intentionally. We were unsure as to how to proceed, for we have never had such an encounter before." The voice goes on. "Forgive us." 

"What is the Ethera?" I say between spasms of pain. "And how did I get here?" 

"We have delved within your mind so that we may glean information with which to communicate with you. Forgive us, but it was necessary. The Ethera might best be described to you as the path to the other side. The road to the afterlife." 

I close my eyes against the pain, curling up on the hard floor. The words echo until they fade, giving them time to sink in. 

"No, wait!" I yell. "That doesn't make sense!" 

Nothing but silence. "Hello?" 

Will someone please... "Ah!" I pound the floor with my fist, feeling the cold metal thud beneath the blow. "IM NOT DYING!" 

_JACK:_

"Her leg is fractured in three places, not a good sign. It's an automatic action for a passenger to reflexively tense the leg they would use to brake the vehicle in a situation like that. Having it in this position is what caused the breakage, and the resulting segmental fractures are angulated, meaning that the separate pieces of bone have shifted and rotated considerably. They will take time to heal, and she will be in a lot of pain. If all goes well, she will regain use of her leg, but it is possible that it will never heal entirely. She may be in pain for the rest of her life, and she may never recover the full use of her leg." 

  


I stare at the leg in question. Its hidden by the blue blanket, elevated slightly but otherwise indistinguishable. We're all silent for a while after this, each of us thinking the same thing; Sam could end up wheelchair-bound. I don't even want to go down that path of thought, because the implications are too frightening. Instead I pick at a patch of flaking plaster on the wall and try not to listen to the silence. Eventually Hammond breaks it. 

"I've contacted the Tok'ra. Jacob is being recalled from a mission and will be here within hours." 

He says this authoritatively, but I know him well enough to be able to tell by the way he trails off that he is just as affected as the rest of us. Teal'c stands impassively. Daniel sits next to me on one of the plastic hospital chairs that are designed specifically to serve no purpose as far as comfort or aesthetics go. I continue to add to my little collection of plaster dust on the lino floor. 

"Well, what about the Tok'ra?" Daniel says now, looking around pleadingly. "A symbiote can cure the host body, right? Right?" 

Janet shakes her head. "Its possible, but we're not even sure if Sam will come out of the coma. There's really no way we can safely blend a symbiote with her as long as there's a chance she might progress to a persistent vegetative state." 

The pile of white powder grows larger and looks like snow. 

"A Tok'ra symbiote would not blend with her while she is unconscious, without her consent. It would be a violation of all that it means to be Tok'ra." Teal'c adds cheerfully. 

"Not to mention Sam's feelings on the subject." I say. Everyone in the room turns to look at me. "That 'I'd rather not go through that again' thing." I mutter. 

Everyone is silent for a long time and I go back to picking at the foundations. 

"Is she in any immediate danger?" Hammond says eventually. 

"Not as far as I can tell." Janet answers, glad for a change of subject. "The unidentified substance in her blood stream..." 

"Could that have been caused by the Altheum drink we consumed on our recent mission?" Teal'c pipes up once more. 

Janet nods. "Im guessing that's what it is. As I said earlier, I have to run more tests before I can be certain..." 

"Is it harmful?" 

'No. Well, yes. Coma's are caused by numerous things, including disease, seizures, metabolic disturbances, tumours, or head injury. The last is what we would normally associate Sam's state of unconsciousness with. However, tests and an MRI scan revealed nothing unusual- no swelling or evidence of trauma on the brain. Its possible that the coma was induced by shock, but the thing that strikes me as odd about this substance is that her heart rate and respiratory system has slowed to a point where she is being kept alive without life support, but not interfering enough to cause any problems. Its as if she's simply - sleeping. It seems to be regulating her systems and keeping her under, but not harming her. Whether the higher-than-usual brain activity is a by-product of that or not is something I'm still not sure of." 

"So you're saying... that drink is helping her?" Daniel stands, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful. "What if we were to get more of it? Could it heal her?" 

Janet shakes her head. "It's not helping her. It might be what kept her alive until we got to the scene of the crash, and what's kept her systems from registering any of the trauma her body's been through, but I don't know what's in the drink yet or why it has such a potent effect on the consumer. I doubt that giving her more would help; it might even reduce the effect of the substance already in her bloodstream. I doubt it would bring her out of the coma, and I would hesitate to add any more of an unknown substance to her system." 

"The toast." Daniel says, earning even more of an all-round stare-fest than I did. Teal'c quirks his eyebrow. 

"Was your breakfast unsatisfactory, DanielJackson?" 

No one, and I repeat NO ONE, appreciates a comedian. 

"No, no, no." he says, looking excited. "Remember the toast, before drinking that... that whatever it was? 'Refne shcla de ne direshda.'" 

"May your spirit be guided on the right path." Teal'c translates. 

"Yes and no." Daniel flutters his hand, unable to get the words out fast enough. "Well, that's one translation. But the words can have different meanings, or levels of meaning. I remember asking Father Nahibrim about it. This drink is ceremonial, and it has a similar effect on our physiology as it does on the Frevians. Taken in sufficient quantities by the Frevian priests while they are in a trance allows them to tread the paths of the 'spirit'... well, what they believe to be the afterlife. It is a ritual of acknowledgement and recognition, a sacred rite. At least," he frowns, "that's what I think he said. I was a little, um, fuzzy by that point..." 

"But we didn't drink a whole lot." I say. 

"Right! Right. So, taken in lesser quantities it has a similar effect to alcohol. Because we didn't enter any trance, the substance merely left our bodies. But Sam..." 

"Still had some in her system." Janet finishes, realisation dawning on her face. 

"Wait, wait, wait." Slow down here. "You're telling me that because she still had the drink in her system when she was knocked unconscious, the stuff thinks she's in some kinda TRANCE?" Whoa. "So its keeping her there and she's supposed to be communing with the dead?" 

Not good. Not good at all. 

"This would explain the high levels of brain activity." 

No way. There is no way in hell my 2IC is lying there in a coma, visiting the afterlife. A lot of weird shit has happened to us over the years. But there is no friggin' way. Ya hear me? "So your saying there's such a thing?" I interject. 

"Well, no. As I've said before, there's no proof of there being an afterlife, for obvious reasons." Daniel frowns. 

Janet cuts him off. "It may be that the substance merely produces a hallucinogenic reaction within the brain itself. The result would still be the same. The person would believe that what they see is real, and the brainwaves would reflect that." 

"Or... not." Daniel goes on. "The afterlife seems to be a belief that has evolved in countless cultures of its own accord. Across hundreds of planets, we've encountered species that..." 

"Daniel." I warn him. "Don't even think about it." 

Hammond sends his calm gaze out across the room. "Jacob Carter arrives in four hours. I'm giving SG-1 permission to return to P3X 925 as soon as he's cleared. That should give you enough time to prepare." 

"Sir, Colonel O'Neill isn't leaving this hospital." Doctor Fraiser, the five-foot terror says with finality. "Not for another two days at the very LEAST." 

See, the thing about the Air Force is that rank and superiority are awarded through a system of merit that rewards intellect and achievement. That gives someone half my size with dictatorial tendencies the ability to make things difficult every chance she gets and still get paid. 

"Very well." Hammond accedes. "Teal'c, you and Doctor Jackson will return to Frevia Four. I'm sure that with our treaty in place they will be willing to help." 

"Sir," I stand up, the disturbance of air in my wake scattering my plaster-dust pile to smithereens. 

Hammond fixes me with a classic 'no-go, Jack ole buddy' look and says "You'll remain here, Colonel O'Neill, and that's an order, do you hear?" 

"Sir, I would like very much to accompany-" 

"An ORDER, Colonel. Do you want me to have you restrained?" 

I know he's not serious, but its hard to miss the excited gleam that springs to Janet's eyes at the idea. 

_DANIEL:_

  


Its hard not to feel sorry for Jack. Janet is enjoying having him under her control a little too much, and I know exactly what that's like. But I also understand the reason for her concern. After all, Jack was very nearly killed and that can lead to a lot of problems. I know he's feeling guilt over what happened, because its what I would be feeling. Its what everyone feels when someone close to the is hurt. 

But it would be abso-positively-lutely not a good idea to have him go off-world in that frame of mind. Knowing Jack diplomacy would be the first thing to go out the window, probably followed by a Frevian diplomat or two, given that their suspicions and formalities are likely to take time, if the negotiations for the treaty are anything to go by. He's likely to start waving his gun around to get things done more quickly... which in this case would mean they won't get done at all. 

Janet leads him out of the room, saying he needs more rest. I look at Teal'c and Hammond, and down at Sam, wondering at what we've just hypothesized. 

"The driver of the other vehicle died this morning." Hammond says. 

I look up in shock. "He died?" 

I see the poor guy in my mind. Teal'c and I went to see him last night. The nurse had showed us in dispassionately. 

"Oh, my God," I had murmured at the sight of what was left of the man. The nurse had explained that the only thing keeping him alive was life support. I had turned away, unable to look, because all I could think of was the horribly selfish thought that THAT COULD HAVE BEEN JACK OR SAM. Bloodstained bandages and compresses did nothing to disguise the wounds, which had covered his entire face and most of his body below the blankets. A mutilated wreck of a man who should have been a living, breathing, walking, talking individual reduced to smashed bones and first degree burns. I had excused myself and run to the bathroom, locking myself in a cubicle and having a serious shaking fit, in which I admit some tears were involved. It had been a few minutes before I could stand, and when I could I still couldn't leave because I was so sick at myself for being so glad that it was someone I didn't know, had never met, that was lying there dying, rather than my friends- even though Sam was in a close enough position. 

Hammond nods. "Jack will need to know eventually." he says. "But lets leave it for a while." 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. There's a mission to prepare for. I need to go throw a few things together. I need to get back to the base... I need to go talk to Jack. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

He looks up miserably at me as I sit down on his bed. 

"Daniel, I need to go to P3X 925 with you." 

  


"I cant override the doctors, Jack. And I'm not sure I would even if I could. You're still feeling the effects, and you should..." 

He shakes his head. "No, you don't understand. There's... a complication with the treaty. I'm going to be needed." 

He catches my attention with that. "What kind of complication?" 

In typical Jack fashion, he gives me a withering look. "The complication is complicated. Just get Hammond to let me come with you. He listens to you" 

"Jack," I say gently, then sharpen. "He doesn't listen to me. I'm the civilian consultant; a nuisance at best, and a pain in the rear at worst... but wait, that's not the point." 

"He listens to you." he insists. "Please. You have to do this. I need to go on that mission. I... I need to do something to help, Goddamit! I'm gonna go loopy if I stay here. And Janet..." 

Even I shiver at the implied torture. I sigh. "I- I'll speak to Hammond, okay? But I don't think he's going to back down on this one." 

"Neither am I." Jack replies firmly. 

_JACK:_

Daniel doesn't understand. I know exactly why I'm gonna be needed on this mission. But I know he will talk to Hammond for me, and Hammond will listen to him because he always does. The general has a major soft spot for him. Daniel gets allowances where the rest of us don't. I'm just hoping this is one of them. 

I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling for a while before the whiteness starts to drift and swim before my eyes. Lord, I'm tired and I hurt. I don't want to sleep but I don't think I've got a choice here. 

I hate it when Janet is right. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

Jacob has been, and gone; by force, of course, because he wouldn't leave Sam's side for a moment since he got here and even then they had to practically use surgery to get him out of the room. Selmak managed to offer a few tidbits of Tok'ra wisdom that only served to confirm Teal'c's earlier assertions. I managed to restrain myself from yelling at the top of my lungs for everyone to stop discussing my 2ICs life as if she wasn't in the room, which was pretty stupid, I admit, even for me, because essentially she wasn't in the room. 

My head hurts. 

I, of course, thanks to Janet am a patient; thus I cannot be removed from the hospital. I'm grateful for that because as soon as no one is watching I'm - whoosh - straight down the corridor and sitting in a dark room with my aching head and a strand of short blond hair catching the light from the hall. 

"Hey, Sam." I say softly. "How you doing?" 

I hope to God she's not in any pain. My thoughts involuntarily return to Janet's words earlier. Sam losing mobility in her leg could see her wheelchair-bound. And that's if she manages to get out of this at all. 

I've seen death. Had full on face-to-face conferences with it, sat down and talked it out, chatted politely and shook hands goodbye, see you next time round. Truth is, I'm not afraid to die; and I don't even have the comfort of believing in Daniel's afterlives. I've got no problem with death if it cant be avoided... but that's my own death. Its other people dying on me that I don't like. 

People I care about. 

Daniel has been talking to Hammond for over three hours now, effectively delaying the mission - our mission - departure until the morning. I know he's trying his damnedest and for Hammond to have listened to him for this long rather than dismissing him outright suggests that he is getting somewhere. The measured look Hammond gave me before he allowed Daniel to speak to him said it all. 

Hammond knows. 

Hammond is able to admit it more freely than I am, for God's sake. 

"You were going to come fishing with me," I speak to Sam. "Right? You were going to say yes. Seems like every damn time I try to get you to come with me something happens. Is that what this is? Some sort of cruel cosmic justice thing or something?" I've seen the cosmos, too. I've seen it and I pissed it off somehow, possibly with all those chicken jokes that annoy people so much. Then it got together with all its mates and decided that its 'get even with O'Neill' time. 

My head hurts a LOT. 

"You know what? This - this is wrong. This isn't meant to be happening. Its not the way its supposed to work, dammit! And you know what really gets me? There's some alternate reality out there where this didn't happen. Why isn't that the right thing? Why is THIS the right thing?" I stand up and pace. "In all those alternate realities... In all those universes where you never joined the military, where you and me- we're engaged, or,..." 

I'm not even making sense anymore. I blame it on my head, which feels as if something crawled in there and died. Those alternate realities also feature some unpleasant aspects, I remind myself. Teal'c is still serving the snakes and 'Jaffa! Kree'- ing in at least one. Daniel is dead in a lot of them. I'm dead in even more, which frankly sucks. And, though I might be mistaken, (Daniel was flicking through the mirror addresses pretty fast,) some feature inhabitants that resemble... 

No. No universe could possibly have evolved creatures that look exactly like fifteen-foot tall white rabbits, let alone allowed them the capacity to wield tennis racquets. 

"...or married... and..." I sigh heavily, seeing again my 2IC the equivalent of drunk and kissing that senator in the hallway. "And I wish that was me. Us." There, I've said it. Onya, O'Neill, its good to finally get that off your chest, isn't it? Yeah, that's me alright. I can finally say it right when she cant hear it. 

I sit back down and slump pathetically, watching her closed eyes. Her face is still peaceful. Just like she's just asleep, and even in the half darkness, deathly pale and hooked up to machines and in some sort of drug-induced state of unconsciousness, she looks so beautiful. I reach out a hand and touch her cheek, gently running a finger across her smooth skin. Its something I won't ever be able to do without a catch, I think. Not without time loops, or alternate selves, or... my effectively nearly killing her. 

I take her limp hand again and squeeze her fingers gently, curling mine around them. I bend my head down and press her hand to my own cheek. 

"Don't die, Sam." I whisper. "Don't you dare die." 

_SAM:_

A whisper. "Don't die, Sam. Don't you dare die." 

It sounds... sounds like Jack. But it's not because he's not here and it hurts to much and I'm still screaming IM NOT DYING IM NOT DYING IM NOT DYING IM NOT... 

Only I think I am. 

I'm standing in my work lab, face-mask pulled down and shading everything red, like blood, (I remember blood. It came with the pain, but left before the pain did. I closed my eyes so I couldn't see it, but I couldn't close out the pain.) 

"You know, you should take a break." 

I switch off the reactor and turn around, lifting the face mask. 

"You've been at that all night." Jack says, pointing past me. "We leave early tomorrow. I want you to get a minimum of four hours sleep tonight." 

"Is that an order, sir?" I say, setting my tools aside and pulling off my gloves to look at my watch, realising that its close to midnight. 

"No," he admits, leaning in the doorway, silhouetted by the dimmed lights in the hallway. "Its advice. You know, as in four hours could make all the difference between living through the day and getting shot by a Jaffa, or getting captured by a snake, or whoever we manage to piss off this time..." 

I dip my head to hide my grin. "Yes sir." 

"You wanna grab a coffee or something?" he waves his arm in the vague direction of the mess hall. 

"Thanks, but I think I'll get some rest." I say, moving to step past him - only he doesn't move. I manage to stop my forward motion, teetering on the brink of touching him. Standing far too close, here in the doorway. I'm trapped and so is he. I make to move past again and he mirrors me, so that I have to stop and stand there because if I don't I'm going to touch him - and I cant touch him. Cant touch, even though he is just a hairs width away and I can smell his aftershave faintly. That thing that we cant admit burning brightly in my mind, and when I look up, burning in his eyes, too. I panic and duck my head again. Far too close. 

It only takes a second to sidestep and I'm out into the corridor. "Goodnight sir," I say. 

"Night, Carter." he answers cheerfully. 

_Night Carter... _echoes softly through my repeated yelling, my throat now too sore to keep it up. 

"Hey!" I call. "HEY! Where are you? Why are you doing this to me? I want to leave, now. Do you hear? Let me go!" 

"You are not a prisoner, Samantha." The soft voice returns from the darkness. 

"It's starting to damn well feel like it!" I shout. "Why are you doing this? What's going on?" 

"We are doing what we are meant to do. Our task is to commune with those who walk the road to the afterlife. That is where you are." 

Everything I've ever learnt about science calls out to me that he is speaking rubbish; everything that I have learnt in the past few years on the Stargate project tells me that nothing is impossible. "Well," I say at last, relieved that at least the pain in my leg has subsided. "Tell me how to get out of this place." 

"We cannot." the voice replies. 

"Why not?" 

"You must leave of your own accord. We are merely the guardians." 

"I want to leave." I say.   


"You can leave whenever you are ready. Until then, you must stay." 

"I'm ready!" 

"If you were, you would not still be here." 

"You say that I'm here by accident," I say. "How can I know if I'm ready if I don't even know why I was brought here? This isn't making any sense! 

"Not an accident. Unexpected, and unintentional on your part, yes; but nothing happens by accident. Perhaps this inability to leave is the reason you are here. One must achieve a state of acknowledgement, of recognition, of acceptance, before one can leave. Those who usually come understand this and are lacking in fulfilment, but are ready to accept and face what bought them on this journey in the first place. Something brought you here, and this something must be resolved, acknowledged, before you can continue your journey." 

"Well, then, what is it?" I say, the pain in my leg building once more. "What am I supposed to do?" 

"We are merely the guardians. The resolution and acceptance must be born of your own heart and mind, but we can help and guide you in this quest. We have been trying to learn more of you so that we may do so. Forgive the intrusion, but we have been touching your thoughts and memories in hope that we might better understand how to help you." 

"Then what happens if I don't... resolve... whatever spiritual problems I've got?" The words taste strange in my mouth. 

"You stand on the road to the afterlife. There are only two directions in which to step." a slight pause. "If one way is barred to you, the only alternative is the other." 

"I'm going to die," I whisper, and again my mind screams. IM NOT DYING! 

I take a deep breath. There is only one thing to do. I've got something to work with; all I need is a starting point. I have to do everything I can to find a way out of here. One things for sure: 

I'm not going down without a fight. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A nice little cheerful chapter there, hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned!

~*IzureAngel*~ 


	4. Chapter 4

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 __

**BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Four _

**Authors Note: **My Australianness is showing through, I know! Sorry, I'll have to fix the gas/petrol tank. I also have to remind myself that Jack would have been driving on the right side of the road, not the left. 

**Disclaimer: **Despite my imaginary sole possession of O'Neill and Daniel, Stargate and Stargate characters aren't mine.__

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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~__

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_SAM:_

The screech of brakes fills my ears, and the clash of metal on metal. The whole world shakes as the side window shatters, showering granules of glass across my upwards-thrown hands, which hit the dash with a sharp crack. In the rain all I can see is darkness and headlights, both of which are spinning. Then the car tilts alarmingly, skidding over the edge of the road and down the embankment; the cars centre of gravity is compromised by the centrifugal force, sending the heavier end of the car into the air. I know we're rolling even before it starts to happen, pull myself into a defensive ball; it's not enough. Bounced around like a cork in the ocean, my head cracks painfully against the window-frame, and the world fades to darkness. 

I open my eyes. Darkness. This is where I woke up the first time. 

The car crash. 

"...no change..." 

So I passed out, and now I'm here. Woke up here. Arrived by accident. And can't leave. 

I'm getting nowhere. Where is here? Was I transported somewhere else, another planet? Why would anyone do that? 

Unless... I never woke up. This could be happening in my head. I could be hallucinating, caused by the blow to my head. This could all be some weird dream. 

I've been here a very long time. 

"...being caused by some sort of..." 

"Jack?" I call, to no effect. "Jack?" 

If I hit my head hard enough, I could have lapsed into some kind of coma. If that's true, then I could quite easily be imagining all this. Dreams bought on by Daniel's incessant chatter about the Frevian afterlife, no doubt. 

Or... 

"...hoping to find the answer..." 

This could be real. I might really be dying. My leg feels broken, but it's usually the pain you can't feel that is the most worrying. What if I've got internal injuries? What if I'm slowly getting weaker, being drawn down the other road the guardians talked about? What if this really is a crossroads between the afterlife and real life? 

It might already be too late. 

I've never been a religious person. I don't _not_ believe in God, but I don't believe in Him either. I can't work with anything that doesn't have a concrete base; without that, it's simply hypothetical. I can work with hypothetical, but without some sort of result on which to build, it doesn't have purchase and slips away. Where does that leave me? Unable to believe in something that no one else can prove to me exists? Or unable to believe in something I can't take a step of faith and prove to myself exists? 

But this, happening inside my head or not, is real to me. Is what I don't believe in coming to haunt me now? Am I going to be sent to heaven or hell? 

I've got no idea where these thoughts are coming from, but they rise unbidden to the surface of my mind. I can see the few churches I've visited in my lifetime before me. They were always open and airy, cavernous ceilings in the older buildings, with beautiful carvings and stained glass windows and tiled floors that carry the sound of your footsteps, and votive candles in multi-coloured holders burning before the statues of saints. 

Never been to church without a reason to go. Christmas, for example, or funerals. My mothers. Never even thought about the people who kneel there in prayer before or after mass, or sometimes simply sit. The people who pay a coin for a candle to light before the statues. 

The guardians think I'm here because I'm incomplete. Is my lack of belief in religion what makes me incomplete? Is faith what I'm missing? What I've been denying? 

Somehow I don't think it is. I DO believe in something. It's science, and the laws of physics, and its something that I've very nearly seen torn apart by what I've seen in my time on SG-1, yet is still a constant. Something that I rely on. My faith is made up of the things I have learned and experienced, my trust in Daniel, Jack and Teal'c, Janet, Hammond and in my father, in myself. 

_JACK:_

"Have you been straining or jarring this hand, Colonel?" Janet asks, giving me a suspecting look as she examines my poor injured wrist. 

"I hit it in my sleep." I say innocently enough. 

She re-bandages it, saying, "Try to be a little more careful. Right, that should do it for now. Get some more rest, and I'd say you'll be good as new in no time." 

"Thanks Doc," I quip easily, not liking the look Hammond is giving me over her shoulder. When she leaves the room, he stays behind, arms crossed and glaring. I lay back down on my bed, hoping that he'll take the hint and not pursue whatever's on his mind - I need my rest. Doctors orders. 

"Jack," he says patiently. Doesn't the man have an entire high-security secret programme to run? Or at least some laundry that needs doing? 

"I know this has been hard on you-" 

Don't start. Please don't start. 

"And I know you think this is your fault-" 

Something inside me snaps, and I sit up, suddenly furious. "There's a woman lying in Intensive Care down there in a coma. I was driving the car that put her there." I say with vehemence. "I was speeding, sir. So yeah, I've got a few issues. Keeping me here isn't going to solve anything. I need to get out there and do something about it." 

"I've been talking to Dr Jackson, Colonel. He seems to be of the opinion you should stay behind on this one." 

No way. Daniel sold me out? Can't be. "General-" 

He holds up a hand. "Wait. I can't overrule the doctors either, Jack, not in medical matters. And frankly, I would advise you to sit it out and get some rest." 

"Whatever Daniel said..." 

"Daniel also informed me that if you didn't get the go-ahead on this mission, you would probably go AWOL and do it yourself." 

What can I say. The kid knows me. "I have to do this, General." 

"I understand, and in your position I would feel the same way." he gives a sigh. "I promised Daniel I would see what I can do. Doctor Fraiser is going to be harder to convince than I am." 

I nod, and motion towards the door. "Do you mind if I go check on...?" 

"Of course." George opens the door for me and my poor wounded hand. We head down the hall to Sam's room. Janet has beaten us to it, and is standing over her patient. Jacob Carter looks haggard and even though I know Selmak is sitting in there keeping him as healthy as he can, this is taking its toll on Carter's dad as well. He gives us a glance as he slumps in the chair, and doesn't spare a glance for the man who set his daughter on that bed. 

"There's still no change. Blood pressure is elevated slightly, but nothing to worry about." Janet updates us all. She hates this, I can tell. Not having any information, any explanation for the symptoms, any estimation of the time it may take to recover. "I've had my hands full trying to keep Sam's blood work out of the hands of other hospital staff so that they don't find the abnormalities left by Jolinar, and its not easy. Doctors are surprisingly keen to help keep people alive, even when its none of their business." 

I could laugh, but the atmosphere kinda kills the mood. 

"The Tok'ra have never encountered the Frevians." Jacob's voice is thin and tired-sounding. 

"It's just a theory," I say. Come on, Jacob. At least _look_ at me. "But we're hoping they've got the answer. In fact, Daniel, Teal'c and I are just about to go ask them." 

Janet gives me a hard-edged look, which I skilfully avoid. Jacob goes on. "I hope you find the answer, Jack, because I feel like I'm watching history repeat itself here." 

Janet's glare softens, and she looks between Jacob and me. I hold her gaze steadily. Come on, Janet, you can see this, can't you? What's happening here? At last she gives a patient grimace and looks away. Looks like I'm going to Frevia Four. 

_DANIEL:_

We gather at the base of the ramp, as usual, armed and cammo'ed. The sirens are active as the gate dials out. O'Neill is looking more than tense. I'm surprised he isn't tapping his foot with impatience. 

"What did he mean, history repeating itself?" he asks suddenly, as the fifth chevron locks into place. 

"What?" I reply intelligently. 

"Jacob said that he is watching history repeat itself." 

"Did he?" I look at him in surprise. "You don't know?" 

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, adopting the tone I've heard him use when he's baiting the Goa'uld. "As many people have informed me, my ex-wife included, I'm not so good at picking up on subtext. So please. Enlighten me." 

Okay. More than more-than tense. Positively hostile. I let Teal'c field this one. 

"There is nothing subtextual about the matter, O'Neill." The last chevron locks into place and the wormhole opens with a snap, crackle and a pop. We climb the ramp, boots clanging on the metal. "Jacob referred to a matter that is registered on MajorCarter's personal record." 

We reach the top of the ramp and pause just before the event horizon. "Her mother was killed in a car accident." He plunges through and vanishes. 

"I knew that." Jack says as the wormhole snaps off behind us. "I just didn't...get the subtext." he finishes lamely, reaching for his sunglasses but pausing when he realises exactly what has Teal'c's staff weapon raised and my hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Whoa," Jack brings his own gun up to aim. 

Six Frevian guards surround us at even intervals. They're wielding short hand weapons that we observed during the negotiations, called _dedinls. _We had been hoping to trade for some in the future, as they are powerful and don't require recharging or ammunition. The dedinls fit easily over the back of the wrist, coming to a point over the middle finger, extending down underneath to form a trigger. The only problem I can see is that they could easily be discharged by accident. We (that is Sam) was hoping (that is, jumping up and down with excitement at the thought) that we could backwards engineer a few and improve them. We just didn't think they would be aimed right up our noses on our return visit. 

"Easy there with those things." Jack says diplomatically. "What's going on?" 

"Tau'ri!" One of them steps forwards. "We did not expect you to return." 

"Um... what exactly is this?" From the tone that man used, I don't think they're too pleased to see us. For a Frevian, he was... well, rude. I hiss out the side of my mouth. "Jack, Teal'c, you might want to put your weapons down." I lower my own. 

Jack doesn't take his eyes off them, but motions for Teal'c to follow his lead as he lowers his gun. 

"We returned because we require a favour," I say, bowing in polite Frevian fashion. I recognise the man now. He is leader of the equivalent of the Defence Department here on Frevia Four. What the hell is going on? Having the head of national security holding us at dedinl-point does not bode well for inter-planetary alliances on any world, let alone one as sensitive and touchy as this planet. 

The man, whose name is... Reichart, if I remember correctly, is tall, like most of the Frevian men, and has a long, lean face. His eyes are blue, and his hair is silver. He is an imposing man, and regards us disdainfully. "We are surprised that you returned at all. That you come begging a favour is even more unsettling. I was ordered that as soon as we received any notification of your return, we were to intercept you here. We will let you know that the Frevian people will not stand for contumacy with our planets laws, especially after incredible concessions on our part for your benefit in this 'treaty'." he sniffs, but lowers his dedinl. Thankfully. 

"We didn't intentionally break any of your laws," I say carefully. "And we were unaware that we did so. We only returned because we need your help." 

"I am no diplomat." the man returns. "And I will not field your questions in the stead of the Governor Laius." 

"Then can we speak to Governor Laius?" I ask. 

The man pauses. "My orders are to bring you to the citadel. You will come with me." He turns and snaps a gesture to the rest of his squad. They turn in unison, forming two lines. An escort. I raise my eyebrows at Jack. This could be interesting. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Keep reading, and help feed a starving ego by reviewing. 


	5. Chapter 5

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 **BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Five:_

**Disclaimer: **Stargate is not mine.

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_JACK:_

The squad of Frevians marches us down the forest path. That they haven't let us use their zappy thing (Carter insisted that it was called a site-to-site conveyer, but it's similar to the thing the Asgard use) again but are making us walk once more, which is indicative of how they truly feel about us Tau'ri. They obviously used it to get to the Stargate once they recognised that it was our address that was dialling in. They move at a distance, giving us a good space of two metres between us and them, grumpy-whatsits in the lead; but they let us know that there is no way we can run. 

I look at Daniel. He looks back, with raised eyebrows that could rival Teal'c's. "What do you think they want with us?" he asks. 

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea this is why I was going to be needed on this mission." I inform them. 

"THIS is your 'complication'?" Daniel's eyebrows drop rapidly into frown mode. "What the hell did you DO?" 

"Why do you assume I did something?" I try to sound innocent. Never works, that. "Never mind. Let me handle it." 

"Let you handle it? If this is how you handle things, Jack-" he sweeps an arm at the guards. "Oh, well, then. Go right ahead and get us ARRESTED next time!" 

I give him a strained smirk. "Don't worry, Danny. This," I wave an all-encompassing arm, "Is the least of our worries." 

Daniel increases his pace to swing around in front of me. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Keep moving, Doctor Jackson." I urge him, and he does, but keeps on glaring at me. 

The city is emerging from the forest before us, or it might be more accurate to say the forest is emerging from the city. It's kind of hard to tell, because the Frevian's have a plant fixation. 

They use the natural surroundings in the construction of their buildings, meaning the end result is rather... green. The land slopes downwards towards the bay that glitters below, so a lot of buildings are built into the side of the hill, including the library, temple, citadel and a few other unidentified structures. These buildings are huge, massive, but the stonework of their walls arises from the ground seamlessly, and are almost covered by vines, flowers, shrubs and trees. The city spreads out below them, a series of neatly laid out streets and houses, shops, stalls and vendors... and of course parks. The roads are laid with stone, but are bordered by thick green grass and flowerbeds. Their superior technology is concealed where possible. Daniel mentioned something about Frevia Four being established as a colony for refugees from Frevia Prime, whose pollution problem had rendered it uninhabitable some years ago, which might explain the aversion to technology and the reverence of plants. 

Personally, if I had one of those zappy-things? I'd keep it on display so my dinner guests could admire it. (And know what they're up against should they ever think to try anything.) 

Reichert comes to a stop on the path ahead, snapping around to face us. We come to a stop as well. 

"You will hand over your weapons," he says. "Before you enter the city. I'm sure you at least remember that much of our customs." 

"Of course," I say, handing over my gun without hesitation. I don't need to cause any more trouble here than I already have. Teal'c has a few more misgivings, after our not-so-warm welcome at the Stargate, but follows suit without any trouble. Reichert hands them to one of the guards, then gives us another glacial look, before turning and leading us off the road, up to a wide set of stone stairs set into the side of the mountain, leading up to the citadel. 

I swear they're doing this on purpose because they know how my bad knees have been playing up recently. There's a lot of stairs. A lot. They wind up through the foliage so that you are continually ducking to avoid nature. But eventually we reach the top, and our friendly tour guide takes us through a familiar open-air passage to a terrace facing the sea. I recognise this place, because this and the room opening off it are the banquet area, where their little celebration was held. Reichert bids us wait and leaves two guards standing in the doorway watching us impassively. 

I head across to check out the scenery. Even I have to admit it's nice. The sunlight dusts the treetops with gold, and the birds are singing full-throttle. Peaceful and tranquil. 

So why do I hate the damn planet with a vengeance? 

Daniel seems to be refusing to talk to me, leaning on the balustrade and staring moodily out towards the forest. Hope he gets over it soon, because I have a feeling we're going to need him on this one. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The governor arrives half an hour later. The wait was for show, just to remind us that we aren't important enough that she can see us immediately. We bow to her, and I greet her with the ritual greeting that Daniel drilled into my head before we first came here. 

"Talnuth Ei." 

Apparently it means 'we are your servants.' Charming. 

Governor Laius is rather more ... slender than most of the other Frevians we've encountered. Still as tall, she is quite noticeably fine-boned; but her presence makes up for it. Apart from her classic beauty, she is incredibly imposing, her intelligence and sharp eyes seeming to see all and everything. She wears a rather impractical white robe that flows behind her. 

"After the demonstration of how the Tau'ri treat those who are their allies, I am not sure I should welcome you at all." she says so coldly she makes me shiver. "I considered us to be friends, Colonel O'Neill." 

"Uh," Daniel steps forwards. "So did we, Governor. We're unsure of what 'demonstration' you are referring to, but you have our assurances that we will attempt to put it right." 

"Perhaps you could ask your Colonel, Doctor Jackson." Laius replies with an icy smile. "Or, since he didn't tell you himself, perhaps it is best that we show you." 

"Show us? What-" Daniel stutters, looking back at me. I shrug, though I know exactly where this is going. I'm just hoping that we can eventually steer it back in the direction we want. 

"Come." Laius commands, leading the way to the centre of the courtyard, in which is a carved fountain spewing water. "Place your hands on the stone." 

We do as she says, firmly holding the white marble. Laius gives a slight toss of her dark hair, and the world shimmers slightly, then dissolves into a shower of white sparkles. When it re-coalesces, we are in a room with plain walls and ceilings, rather functional for Frevian architecture. Well I'll be. A zappy-thing built into the fountain. 

There are many other people bustling around us, but we sure as hell don't blend in, especially not in our serviceable uniforms. We're in what seems to be a foyer, decorated with live plants, of course. A wide hallway leads from it, and people move through it, mill in the foyer, and stand around waiting. 

"Where are we?" Daniel asks. 

"This is the Resfern City Medical Centre," our host explains, stepping forwards without hesitation. As we move through the foyer and through into the hallway, a soft tingling sensation passes through my body, starting at my head and moving down through to my feet. "That is a cleansing system, designed to remove foreign particles and diseases from your bodies and clothing." She says, seeing our looks of concern. 

I look back at the space we just passed. I can't see any evidence of a system built into the walls or the ceiling. It's fascinating the lengths they go to hiding this stuff. 

Rooms open off the hallway, all of which are as airy and open as possible. There are patients lying in the beds, but there is none of the stiflingly antiseptic atmosphere that pervades every hospital I've ever visited. I take it that the people wearing red tunics are their equivalent of doctors, but the only clue is that they are moving faster and with more purpose than the other people here. 

A familiar figure appears before us. "Teria Elhen, my friends," the dark haired, fairly young man says, bowing slightly. He wears a brown robe and a winning smile. "Doctor Jackson. I did not expect to see you here." 

"Father Nahibrim!" Daniel exclaims, smiling. 

The Governor doesn't even bother to acknowledge the man's presence, sweeping past and gathering him in her wake. 

"It is good to see you again, Doctor Jackson." the priest says. 

"What - what do you do here?" I hear Daniel ask. 

"I am trained as a healer." he replies. "Here, most cases and injuries are treatable. I ... work with those who are not so lucky. I spend most of my time here." 

We head for and enter a room at the far end of the hallway, as light and airy as the rest of them. I recognise the man lying in the bed, despite the bandages binding his jaw and the dark bruise marring his cheek. 

"Senator Melabinsan?" Daniel gasps. 

So that's what I did to the bastard. Whadda ya know. 

"You!" the patient sits up, pointing at me and looking vengeful. 

"Sit back, Senator." Laius says, turning to face me, full of righteous indignation. "This," she points to the man on the bed. "Is your version of complying with our non-violence laws, after we spent the week negotiating a treaty that comprises of many concessions on our part, and only benefits on your part. Needless to say, we are outraged. How do you explain yourself?" 

"Jack?" Daniel breathes, looking between me and the lump of handsome pulp on the bed. 

"Allow me to explain, Governor. This man was taking advantage of one of my team mates." And I'd do it again, you sleazy bastard. 

"Is that an excuse for violence?" she snaps. What happened to that annoying politeness thing? 

"Okay, so I... overreacted a bit." 

"You fractured my jaw!" Comes a protest from pretty-boy over there. 

"I gave you a warning." 

"This is not the point!" The Governor is looking daggers at us all. "I'm just wondering how we can possibly trust your word, Colonel O'Neill, when this is how you treat a valued and respected member of our society. You come begging us favours?" 

"The woman that man was taking advantage of was an important and valued member of my own team, whom I am responsible for at all times. Major Carter was..." 

"She was not unwilling!" the muffled voice croaks again. 

"Major Carter," I repeat, "was under the influence of a drug that messes with brain chemistry. That very same drug is the reason I'm here, and why we need your help. Major Carter's life is in danger, so why don't we just put this behind us and focus on the real issue here?" 

The Governor looks as if she's just going to dismiss us straight off, but Father Nahibrim forestalls her when he steps forwards. "What exactly is endangering her life?" 

"Carter drank some of that Altheum stuff," I say. "And on our return to Earth, we were involved in an accident." I hold up my bandaged fingers as evidence. "She was knocked unconscious." 

The priest's eyes widen. "She has journeyed to the Ethera!" 

"That's- that's what we figure. Only we don't know how to get her out of there." 

"This is amazing." Nahibrim's eyes widen. "If this is true, she is the first outside of our species to do so. This is an opportunity. I would wish to speak with her..." 

"See, there might be a problem with that!" I practically shout. 

Laius whirls on us. "Father, wait outside, if you please. This is a matter for myself and Colonel O'Neill." 

Nahibrim's face falls. "Yes, of course, Governor." he says meekly, leaving quietly. 

"Daniel, wait outside too, would you?" I turn to Daniel and whisper sotto voce, "try to find out something, anything that can help get Sam back in the world of the living." He nods and follows Nahibrim. 

"I did nothing wrong, Governor." Melabinsan moans from the bed. 

Laius ignores him. "Colonel, I think we still have a chance of saving this treaty. It will require your apology to Senator Melabinsan, and recompense of some kind. We will need to re-negotiate some points, and restrict your access to our planet and people, but should you be willing, I believe our worlds can still enjoy a long and fruitful relationship." 

"I don't give a -" 

"O'Neill," Teal'c cuts me off. He bows to Laius. "Colonel O'Neill is distraught over the critical state of our friend and team mate. Please, we mean no disrespect, but our main priority is to her. Anything else you should wish to discuss could perhaps wait until her health and safety is no longer a concern." 

Yeah. What he said. 

Laius looks thoughtful, then her face hardens again. "I met Major Samantha Carter. She is a worthy individual, and I can understand how your responsibilities to your team mate may preside over the future of your planet in your own estimation. However, our outlook is not so narrow. We wish for an alliance with the Tau'ri. But perhaps we have been mistaken in the intentions of your planet as we have in your own intentions, Colonel. You wish only for personal gain. This is unacceptable. I will take the treaty into consideration. You will return to your planet and await my decision." 

"About the treaty, or about helping Sam?" 

"Both. Come. We will return to the Stargate." 

"No, no, no." I hold up my hands. "See, doesn't work like that. Sam is dying NOW. We haven't got your technology. We don't know enough about this Ethera or whatever it is to even understand what's going on. Ya see?" 

She doesn't see. 

_DANIEL:_

I catch up with Father Nahibrim in the hallway. He looks pleased to see me. 

"Daniel! I was hoping to talk to you again, my friend." 

I try to get him to stop moving. "Um, yeah. Listen, I-" 

"Come." he leads me across to a low seat in a corner, and urging me to sit down. "I would like to talk further about the beliefs of your people..." 

I hold up a hand. "No, wait. I'd love to talk about that, because there's a lot I still don't understand about your religion and ... but this isn't the time. What I really need is to get Sam's mind out of that Ethera place. Can you help us?" 

"Ah, yes, a dilemma." his face falls, but he nods accommodatingly. "Of course, I would love to help you. I have travelled there myself, as a part of my ordainment. Many of the priests and ministers have. It is truly a wondrous journey, which is why I would like to speak with Major Carter when she returns; I wish to learn more about it." 

"You've been in the trance yourself? Well, how do you come out of it? Is there some sort of safeguard or something?" 

He looks thoughtful. "No, Daniel. In most cases, a person undertaking the sacred journey will exit the Ethera naturally, when the work that needs to be completed is done." 

"In most cases? What about the other times? Is there a drug that can be used to bring them out?" 

"No. In ancient times, when a priest entered the Ethera, he or she would do so in privacy, usually in the forest alone, after days of meditation. There were cases where they never completed the journey and never returned. In more recent times, it has become mandatory for the subject to be placed in a room where their vital signs may be monitored and aid is readily at hand, so that they may be bought out of the trance if there is any sign of trouble. Thankfully this rarely happens." 

"Well, how are they bought out of the trance in cases like that?" 

Father Nahibrim shifts in his seat. "There is a procedure called 'Renail'd'. It involves using a device that can override the patterns of the mind created by the trance, effectively cutting the mind off from the Ethera." 

At last! Oh, God I hope this is what we need. "Where can I get one? How is it used?" I stand up, looking around as if there might be one just hiding in the hallway. Father Nahibrim stands too, pulling at the pocket of his robe. He emerges with a small, flat piece of metal, about the size of my hand. 

"It carries many risks. Many risks indeed. It is recommended that the subject complete the journey and emerge from the Ethera naturally. This is only a last resort." he turns the device over in his hands. 

"Can you lend it to me?" 

He looks at me sadly. "I would need the permission of the Governor. You must understand..." 

No. Oh no. The cure for Sam is right there in his hands... I could reach out and snatch it and run. I could. "Please. You have to help us. She could die..." Could I grab it? I have unarmed combat training. I'm not so good at it - of course by that I mean I usually end up flat on the gym mat with more than one bruise, a headache that lasts forever and a gloating Colonel making a pretence at apologising - but I could try. I might just make it to the end of the passage before I was vaporised by some hidden technology in the carpet. 

Father Nahibrim sees my gaze and seems to read my mind. He slowly tucks the device back into his robes. "I can't go against the Governor's wishes." 

I nod slowly, feeling numb with the lost opportunity. "I understand." I say. 

_SAM:_

"Where do I start?" I said that a while ago, I think. There was no answer from the guardians, or anyone else for that matter. Just uninterrupted empty darkness. 

I remember the crash now. Jack speeding, attention divided between me, the road and his stupid cabin. He wanted me to go fishing with him. Hell, if I'm lying here in this place watching my life and trying to figure out what's blocking me from attaining completion because of his _insistence_ that I go join him fishing-for-no-fish in the middle of nowhere, he's going to be very, very sorry when I get out. I'll... I'll make him sit through a lecture on Relativity Theory... and take notes. And write a report on it. With bullet point summaries. 

It's not his fault though, which makes things harder. I want someone to blame. Something sent me here, and I'm sure this isn't a normal part of a coma. Other people have woken up from comas. No one I've ever heard of talks about dark rooms, strange voices and memories flying every-which-way. So where do I go from here? 

Senator Melabinsan offers me another glass of the sparkling yellow liquid, and I take it, not wanting to be impolite. He holds up his own glass and smiles, saying, "May our spirits be guided on the right path." With this he drinks deeply, and I gather I'm supposed to be doing the same, so I do. It tastes fruity, strangely pleasant. 

The room we're gathered in is large - most of the Frevian architecture is designed to be airy, but this is the biggest room I've seen so far. It opens out into a terrace overlooking the city and the sea, so that the breeze fills the room with the scent of the trees. Most of the delegates of the Frevian Council are here. The priest, Father Nahibrim, is talking animatedly to Daniel near the door. Teal'c is out on the terrace, discussing architecture with a few of the designers. But it's Colonel O'Neill that my attention is focussed on. 

He's talking to the Governor, Laius. In honour of the occasion he is wearing his dress blues, like I am. He's also flirting with the Governor. 

Oh, it's not obvious or anything. Far from it. But I can see it. And she's flirting with him, tossing her long black hair around, laughing, and wearing a dress like _that -_ damn it, I could never get away with something as tight and clingy as the deep red sheath she's not so much wearing as radiating. And he's going along with it without a whimper of protest, laughing right back. Leaning against the wall casually, and running a hand through his hair. 

Damn. 

I shake my head, and try not to think about Jack, and try to think instead about _why_ I'm thinking about Jack anyway. I have a lot of respect for the man, even though he can be incredibly irritating, obnoxious, rude and dense at the best of times, but it's none of my business what he does when we're at an off-world party. 

"You seem distracted, Samantha." 

Caught off guard, I try to regain the conversation. "Just thinking." I give a smile. "It's been a long week and I'm kind of tired." The senator has been an attentive host in our time spent here. Before going into politics, he was been an engineer, and during our stay I've tried to prise as much information about their technology out of him as I can. He showed me a few fascinating devices, such as a handheld tool used to regenerate human skin after cuts or burns. Of course, he's not giving me any clues as to how they work, but I'm hoping if we play our cards right and act the gracious, humble, primitive people they seem to think we are, they might consider a trade. He's a nice enough guy, in any case, and I can't help but like him. And that has nothing to do with how attractive he is. 

"Ah, I see. Not too tired as to retire early, I hope? I was hoping to ask you to dance with me later." 

"Of course not," I reply automatically, before realising what I've committed myself to. A DANCE? Are you kidding me? I don't dance. I - um, what? "I mean - I..." Is there any way I can get out of this? I take another sip of my drink to cover up my reddening cheeks. "I don't usually dance." 

"You don't? I am surprised." he refills my glass, which somehow mysteriously emptied itself. "Though it cannot be through lack of offers. Perhaps I am merely one of the luckier ones to have been accepted." 

Okay, somebody help me out here. There's no way this man can be serious. I look around wildly, and the room seems to tip slightly as I locate Jack still talking to Laius over there and looking like he's having a good time of it, too. I'm – I'm not jealous, because that would just be weird. I've got nothing to be jealous _of_. I just wish he wouldn't be so... 

I turn back to Melobinsan, who is smiling at me. "I just don't get out much," I admit. "So I'm afraid I wouldn't be the best partner." 

"I couldn't think of a better." he replies. "Don't worry, I will teach you the steps. For now, would you like to walk out to the terrace? The view is spectacular at sunset." 

The sun falls swiftly on this world, and the layers of intact ozone make for a blazing brilliance. Reds and golds streak across the darkening sky as I cross to the stone balustrade and lean my elbows on it. "It's beautiful," I say. 

There are a few others in the paved area, talking and eating and drinking. Nobody pays any attention to us, not even Jack, who is now firmly ensconced with the Governor. I pull my attention away from him and chat politely to Melabinsan, who is playing the part of gracious host and pointing out the various buildings and areas below us. Personally I'm more interested in how their transport devices work, but for now I'm content to leave it, if only because I'm feeling more than a little dizzy. 

Soft music tinkles through from the main room, and Melabinsan offers me his hand. I take it, noticing that the world is more than a little unsteady, and that I'm being led back into the chamber where many of the delegates, council members and sundry officials are dancing a slow, rhythmic waltz-type-thing. Damn. I can't do that, and I don't want to dance. I'd rather sit over there and watch while I get over whatever it is that's making me feel as if I'm going to fall over; but Melabinsan leads me gracefully onto the floor, one hand clasping mine, the other settling on my waist. I catch a glimpse of the Colonel O'Neill, and he's... he's dancing with the Governor! I've never in my life, never in all my years working with him, seen Jack dance. Ever. Why now? Why - with her? Oh, like I don't know. Who's she think she is, wearing that dress and all? And it's only a glimpse, because the senator pulls my eyes off the scene as he leads me into the dance. 

It is surprisingly easy. I just follow where he steps, and he guides me so that I'm not tripping over my heeled shoes. I slip once, and he catches me, holds me upright, as if it's all part of the dance. Its kind of fun. 

The rest of the room fades into a blur of colour and light. A ringing fills my ears, and my legs feel rather weak, but he leans in and says; 

"See? You're not such a bad dancer after all." 

I laugh, way too loud. "No, I'm not." I say. What? Shut up, Sam. "No thanks to you." 

Why didn't I notice how freakin' HOT this guy was before? 

"Are you tired?" he asks softly. 

I nod, sending the room wobbling strangely and my thoughts whirling around the fact that there hadn't been any reports of seismic activity in the area lately, so why is the floor rocking like that, and then he's leading me through the crowd to somewhere… 

It's cooler out here, darker, quieter. Noise and light still spill from the doorway to the chamber, but the hallway is empty. My head is starting to hurt, and I really need to sit down right now but hey, here's a wall, and I can lean on that for a moment. 

Melabinsan is smiling softly, and he's still got my hand in his. I might need that hand back, you know... okay, keep it if you want. What's he doing? Hand on my face? Cheek... stroking... oh crap. Where'd Jack go, anyway? And Daniel? And I didn't even see Teal'c in there. I really need to sit down. 

His breath on my cheek as he cups my chin and pulls my face up, lips meeting his. Okay, fine, but you have to let me sit down afterwards... and ohmygod he's kissing me, only he's a senator on the government of the world that is potentially the most influential alliance we've ever made -and-where-the-hell-is-Jack? 

His hand slides down slightly, to rest on my hip, the other one on my shoulder, pulling him towards him at the same time he pushes me back against the wall. I can taste that weird drink on his breath as well as mine. And then suddenly he pulls back - or rather, is pulled back. 

What the-? 

"Whatthehellyoudoing?" somebody shouts, then there's the sound of knuckle on bone, jawbone to be exact, and Melabinsan goes flying and lands rather indelicately against the opposite wall. Ah, now I can sit down. Nice floor. Good, soft carpet. I think I'll just lie here for a moment. 

"Carter? Carter, are you...?" a worried voice as whoever sent the senator a package of snapped endoskeleton bends over me. 

Oh. There you are, Jack. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode...

Damn this is getting long! I thought it would be over in five chapters or so but I'm having way too much fun writing it...

~*IzureAngel*~


	6. Chapter 6

** SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter 6:_

**Disclaimer: **Stargate is not mine. If however MGM, Gekko, Double Secret and whatever get sick of it I'll be more than happy to take it off their hands. 

Thankyou thankyou thankyou for the wonderful reviews! 

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_JACK: _

I try not to yell at Daniel on our forced march back to the Stargate. I try not to bring up the fact that the cure for Sam was sitting right in front of his face and he let some little monk slip it back into his pocket and walk away. I try. I fail miserably. 

"...you think the damn treaty is more important? Political games with this race of smug bastards who think this is a ploy to get their technology off them?" I say, eyeing our escort evenly as I effectively destroy interplanetary relations before our very eyes. I don't care. I'm pissed as all hell and I really don't care. "You know, that's always the way with you. You can go on for hours about burial grounds and ruins, but when it comes to the here and now you don't have a fuckin' CLUE -" 

"O'Neill!" It's Teal'c who stops me. "Perhaps you should consider your words more carefully." 

"I've considered them." I say, surprising even myself with the cold tone that I'm using. "Just never said it before. What is it about this afterlife thing that is so fascinating that you didn't even stop to think that-" 

Daniel whirls on me, causing me to stop short and our escort to grind to a halt. "I thought about it, alright?" he spits. "I thought about grabbing the thing and sprinting. Anything is worth it -" his words are cut off by the order from Reichert up there to please keep moving. I continue to walk past Daniel, who catches me up and continues. "To save Sam. But just what did you expect me to do, hm? Belt up an innocent man for obeying his own laws? Knick him out, rob him and run? What do you want me to do?" 

Keep walking O'Neill. You say anything more you're gonna regret it. Keep the mouth shut. It's not his fault. You know that. It's your own fault. Yours alone. _You _cracked that senator one in the jaw. You screwed up this treaty before it even got off the ground. And while we're on the subject, _you_ allowed us to go to that stupid celebratory banquet in the first place, _you_ thought that Altheum drink was safe enough to consume while on duty, _you_ let Carter out of your sight while you were talking to Laius, and _you_ did absolutely zilch to prevent her from getting into the state that produced this mess. 

Oh, and lets not forget, you were speeding when you were taking Carter home. 

The rest of the trek is spent in a brooding silence on my part. As we reach the gate, we're handed back our weapons as we dial home. The escort stands there waiting for us to leave, just in case we decide to double back and steal some plants. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

General Hammond leads us into the briefing room with a face that matches our moods. There was no need to say anything as we returned. One look said it all. 

"The treaty appears to be -" Daniel gives me a glance. "Its not good, sir. The Frevians have decided to re-evaluate their assessment of the Tau'ri due to... um..." 

"'Contumacy of their laws'." I supply helpfully. 

"They appear to be aggravated by Colonel O'Neills assault on one of their members of parliament." Teal'c says from across the table. 

"I'd hardly call it an 'assault'," I object. "Sir." 

General Hammond shakes a lowered head. _"That_ wasn't in the mission report," he mumbles. "Doctor Jackson, Teal'c, would you wait outside, please?" 

The two give eachother wary looks as they leave. 

"Jack?" Hammond says. "I think we might have a slight problem here. Just what exactly did you do to these people that they are now refusing to help us with Major Carter's condition?" 

"The usual." I say. "Fractured a senators jaw, you know... I won't bore you with the details..." 

"This is a very serious matter, Colonel. I want to hear the full story. Now." 

"I hit a guy who was taking advantage of Carter's intoxicated state, sir." I say, keeping my face impassive. "But the matter at hand is that they have something that could bring her out of this trance. We need to get it..." 

"Im sure I don't need to remind you that the Frevian alliance is an important step in fighting the Goa'uld. I would hope that you apologised to the man in question and the Governor as well." 

"He got her drunk on that stuff!" I say. 

"Your personal relationship with Major Carter should in no way be clouding your judgement like this. I've let things go for now, but... Colonel, I hope you realise this could cost us greatly. You might easily have put our entire planet in jeopardy. We can't afford to make enemies, now or ever - especially not ones as technologically advanced as the Frevians." 

"To be fair, sir, I don't think they had any intention of sharing technology in the first place. They see themselves as benefactors to the poor simple-minded Tau'ri." My personal relationship with Carter? Uh oh. "They wouldn't give us squat, and they're using this as an excuse." 

"Colonel, I don't care." Hammond's voice rises slightly into the danger zone. "The point is, you've offended them, and now as well as not helping Major Carter, they're planning to re-evaluate the treaty." 

George, _I _don't care. "Politics can be sorted out. We can figure something out to save the treaty. Sam - Major Carter needs help NOW. We need to go back. I need to go back." 

"No, Jack, and that's final. Major Carter is very important, and it pains me to have to say this. But it's entirely up to me, and this is a decision that affects the entire planet. Based on the fact that it hasn't even been proven that she _is_ in a trance, and that she might emerge from the coma by herself at any point in time, there is simply no way we can place the life of one individual over something that may affect the lives of billions. _Do you understand_?" 

I stand up so abruptly that my chair topples to the floor. "No, sir." I say. "I don't understand how everyone can be so concerned about a goddam piece of paper when someone's life is at stake." 

"Sit down, Jack." 

I ignore him, heading to the door and wrenching it open. 

"Im sorry, Jack." he says softly to my turned back. 

Yeah. Bet you are. 

_DANIEL:_

Jack doesn't spare us a glance as he slams the door and stalks off down the passage. Teal'c and I share raised eyebrows. "Guessing that didn't go so well." I say sadly. I lean my head back against the wall. 

Hammond disturbs us, opening the door and motioning for us to enter. We take our seats silently. Hammond looks pale. 

It's a while before any of us speaks. It's Hammond who takes charge first. "Did you know anything about this... incident?" 

"Neither of us were aware of Colonel O'Neill's fracturing a man's jaw." Teal'c supplies. "We did not witness it, nor did he tell us of it." 

"But he hinted." I add, unable to keep my misery out of my voice. "That's one of the reason he was so eager to go on this mission - he knew we'd run into trouble over it." 

Hammond sighs and rubs his temples. "Im going to have to send in another team to re-negotiate." he says finally. "I can't stress how important it is that we keep these people as allies." He looks up, at each of us, searchingly. "But I need to make it clear that in no way am I dismissing Major Carter's state." 

I nod slowly, seeing the pleading look in his eyes. He's under a lot of pressure from this, I can tell. And the decision rests with him. It must be an incredible burden to bear, and I wouldn't relish the job for a second. 

"The greater good must always have precedence over personal attachments." Teal'c inclines his head. 

Oh, I hate this. Sitting here discussing Sam like this. It's like... it's like choosing her coffin. God. 

"Jack..." I say, but have to swallow against the dryness in my mouth. 

"I know Colonel O'Neill will try to return to P3X 925. I'm ordering a security detail on high alert posted in the gate room round the clock." 

Good lord. That seems a little extreme. But then again, given that we've collectively defied orders and managed to activate the Stargate any number of times in the past, I guess I can see why. 

"I also have to point out that although I'm willing to give you a few more days on this, your downtime ended officially yesterday. I simply can't spare SG-1 for much longer. With or without Major Carter." 

I hate this. 

_JACK:_

I stare at the elevator walls as if they're the cause of all that is wrong with this world. As if the blank grey metal caused Daniel to stand around idly while his eager-to-please priest friend waved Sam's cure right in front of his nose. As if they caused Hammond to suddenly care more about interplanetary politics than an important member of his command. The numbers flick downwards, and I can feel the waves of anger rising. I lash out. It's the walls fault, if anything, for not preventing this from happening. So I punish them accordingly by ploughing a fist as hard as I can into them. Followed by a foot. And another fist. 

The doors slide open at level one, and I step out calmly not looking at the airman who step in behind me and look curiously at the dented panels on the back wall. 

My eyes smart with the pain in my jarred wrist. Janet isn't going to be happy, but it feels good. Wakes me up. Reminds me that I still feel it. I need to be reminded. I grit my teeth and welcome it. 

Planning to head back to the hospital, like a good boy. Get some rest. Maybe Janet will let me go home tomorrow. Maybe I'll bum out on the couch and watch some movies and maybe I'll have a steak for dinner. 

It's dark out here, sometime in the late evening. A few guards stand stand, others patrol the entrance, a few other people move here and there in the shadows. I walk across the car park, footsteps echoing slightly. I pass Sam's car. 

In all that's happened, the fact that her car is still here escaped everyone's notice. Such an ordinary thing seems sort of ... surreal. In the faint lighting it is almost shadowed, and I walk up to it. Try the door handle; still locked. Rest my hand on the roof for a while and wonder what the hell I'm doing here. 

The answer is nothing. I'm doing nothing. And the crazy thing is, I'm pissed at everyone else for doing nothing. The only alternative is to do something. So why aren't I doing it? 

Okay. What I need to do is go back there and find the priest. Get the device. I can do that. Will do that. 

I turn on my heel and stalk back past the security checkpoint, ignoring the looks from the various airmen. As I wait for the elevator I realise that its not just my demeanour that has them gawping like stunned fish - my knuckles are streaming with blood. I think I left some skin on the elevator wall. 

I head down to the armoury. There's four guards outside the door that give me wary looks, and I pass by with a nod. Four? I continue on my way innocently, pretending I didn't even notice the uppage in security. You've got to be kidding me. All this for little old me? George must be getting paranoid. 

He's not paranoid enough. 

I open the door to my office and step inside idly. Car keys. I left my car keys. I rummage through the draw, then throw a few things around the desk. My eye catches a glimpse of what had at one stage been an in-tray, which had at some stage changed to a pending tray, and now a pitiful conglomeration of comic books and chocolate bar wrappers. And a memo from Carter, labelled and stapled, her neat hand-writing unmistakable. 

I pretend to read it, turning my back to put my body between the security camera and the desk. Set the memo down (can't make out what she was talking about anyway) And slide the draw open... ah yes, here it is, my faithful Walther PPK. Check the clip: good, collect the spare clip, slip it into the pocket and oh, here are my car keys. Turn to show them to the security camera. See guys? Found 'em. 

Now for the difficult part. If Hammond thinks I'm going to go for the armoury, he's also probably got the idea that I'm gonna try to hop the Stargate. Meaning he'll have a security team on standby, ready to stop me. 

I walk briskly to the elevator, then head down. As the doors open, I see two airmen waiting to board. I step past them as they move into the car, and I'm down the corridor before they can say anything. 

I round the corner and bump smack-bang into Hammond. 

"Jack." he says. 

"Im going back." 

"You know I can't authorise that." He holds up his hands. 

"I know." Dammit, I know. "But sir-"

"There are no buts, Colonel. If you persist, I'll have to have you escorted off the base." 

"I don't think you want to try that right now." Let me passed, George. I don't want to have to knock you out or something. 

"Give me the gun..." 

"No, sir." How did he know I had a gun, dammit? 

"Colonel, I gave you an order!" he spits, his face reddening. "I expect you off this base within the next ten minutes or I'll..." 

"You'll what? Have me court martialled? Right now I couldn't care less about anything than damn regulations!" I'm yelling now, yelling right in his face. "Do your fucking worst, General! I'm not going to sit there and watch while one of the most brilliant people in the world loses her mind to some alien influence!" 

"Major Carter is in a coma, Colonel." he restates. "Other people have recovered from worse..." 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, George, but other people don't usually have alien drugs in their systems when they're thrown down a mountain in their superior officers car." He doesn't back up an inch under my tirade, and I turn and start to walk away down the corridor. But not back toward the elevator. Oh, no, I'm heading for the control room. 

"COLONEL O'NEILL!" he shouts. 

"I LOVE HER!" I whirl on him and bellow it at the top of my lungs. We've gathered an audience of stunned airmen, gawping at the spectacle of Jack O'Neill finally having lost it, and, probably, collecting the outcomes of long-standing wagers. "I love her." 

Officially having stunned everyone within hearing range, I turn on my heel and continue my march for the control room. "Consider me retired, General Hammond, sir. I'd like to request permission to go through the gate one last time. If ya don't give it to me, hell, you're gonna have to shoot me, sir." 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

I don't have a reputation for being great with technology. In fact the only thing I use my computer at home for is sending chicken joke emails to Teal'c. But you don't hang around Carter for years and not learn something about the system - and besides, we're all given some basic training in how to work the dialling system. I'm Hammond's 2IC. I get privy to a few of the lock-out codes. 

Hammond stands at my shoulder, completely silent while I effectively dismantle the security measures he put in place. He's ordered the armed guards to stand down, but they seem very edgy. 

The last chevron locks into place and the wormhole spews into existence. I give Hammond a last glance. 

"Try not to make too much of a mess, Colonel." he says. 

"Will do." Make a mess, I mean. Preferably involving a certain senator. 

I duck down the stairs and into the gate room. The guards watch me, and I can feel Hammond's gaze on my back as I walk up the ramp. I don't look back in case he has second thoughts and decides to give the order to shoot me. 

_SAM: _

Somehow my subconsciousness managed to dredge up the memories from the celebration on P3X 925 and set them out before me. Or maybe it was those guardians poking through my mind - I don't know. The pain in my leg is back with a vengeance, coupled with a headache, making any kind of thought hard to form or follow. 

"Are you still there?" It's worth a try. 

"We are still here," comes the reply. 

"Tell me what to do next." 

"We cannot tell you. You must find your own path." 

"Okay, so what is it that you've shown me so far? And why those memories, those images?" Why the forest scene, the lab, the celebration? 

"Usually that which has been eluding us is something we have known all along. The challenge is to acknowledge it." 

"I can't acknowledge it if I don't see it!" I call through gritted teeth. "There is no correlation between them. They're just... randomness." 

As if on cue, I find myself standing in a long, high-ceilinged chamber. I recognise it as a tomb, part of a ruined temple we found on P2Y 441. The far end of the room has long since collapsed, so that we can see the surrounding plains and distant mountains. This had been one of our more - restful - missions, an uninhabited planet on which the most danger to be found came from the annoying bites of the mosquito-like insects. Daniel had been entranced by the ruins, and some of them were pretty impressive, and Hammond had given us three days to let him decipher the scripts in the main chamber 'in case there is anything about the planet that might yield an answer as to the mysterious disappearance of its inhabitants.' The reason was apparent by the extent and type of damage; they had been mercilessly wiped out by the Goa'uld, and Hammond was only using this as a cover for keeping our resident linguist in good spirits after having forced him to abandon so many important anthropological finds on other planets. In any case, it had given us a lot of free time - that is, when not standing sentry, and when not helping Daniel. 

I run my hands over the stone, which is ancient and worn, warm with the heat of the day. This place had been old when the Goa'uld hit, but had most likely only fallen into disrepair after they were gone, Daniel had said. I could understand his excitement, feeling the ancient surface beneath my fingers and wondering who had built and tended this place so long ago. 

"Bit airy for my taste." Jack says from behind me, squinting up at the gaping holes in the ceiling and walls. "But, I could live with a skylight." 

I pause, bringing my hand back to my side. 

"Something wrong, Carter?" 

"This is a memory," I say, leaning back against the wall. "Maybe a dream created from memory, seeing as how this environment seems to shape to fit what I say and do. I'm lucid here, not bound to play it out the way everything actually happened. Is this some sort of interactive tool? Something you use to communicate with me? Then what do you want to say, what are you trying to tell me?" 

"Nothing." Jack looks confused. "You okay?" he comes a bit closer. In the heat he's removed his jacket, and is wearing his black T, which is clingy with perspiration. I realise that I must look similar, having decided earlier that it was worth putting up with the insect bites for the sake of feeling a little cooler. 

"No, not okay at all." I say, slumping down against the wall, hard stone grazing my back. "My leg hurts and I can't think." I close my eyes, bringing my knees up to my chest. I want to go home. 

"You're just tired." 

I jump when his voice sounds from right next to me. I lift my heavy eyelids to look at him, crouched beside me and looking concerned. He pats my shoulder. "Relax." he says. "Come on." 

An arm encircles my shoulders and coaxes me to lean into him. I pull away, but with no real effort. I let my head settle on his shoulder and relax into his arms. My eyes close involuntarily until the little part of my mind that will never sit down and shut up jerks me to wakefulness once more. I pull away, trying not to feel regret as Jack looks wounded. 

"This isn't real, and you're not you." I struggle to put some distance between us. "Which is probably why _that_ just happened." 

"Probably." Jack replies sulkily. 

I look around the place, and for the first time notice the subtle differences. Some areas of the chamber looked slightly fuzzy, as if out of focus. The far wall is an indistinct blur, and the light is tinged with a faint red that I don't ever remember having been there. It's as if by recognising that this is not real I have broken the illusion. 

Jack stands up, dusting off his clothes, and looking at me expectantly. Only he no longer looks quite like Jack. He's taller, younger, his hair darker. He holds out a glass full of golden liquid. "May our spirits be guided on the right path," says Senator Melabinsan. 

I take a step backwards, only to find the wall of the audience chamber right behind me. 

"You seem distracted, Samantha." he says silkily. 

The room is now populated with dozens of people. 

And I'm going crazy. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Poor Sam. I know the feeling. 

Three more chapters to go!!


	7. Chapter 7

** SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Seven:_

**Disclaimer:** Stargate is not mine, nor is it likely to be mine at any point in the near future. 

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_JACK: _

I emerge from the Stargate and immediately do a duck and roll, throwing myself to one side and off the side of the dais so that I'm down amid the foliage, out of line of any fire and ... up to my knees in a puddle. Brilliant entrance, O'Neill. 

It's dark here, closing in on night-time, and the brilliant Frevian sunset has dulled to a smear of red on the horizon; but its not dark enough to hide the team of armed Frevian guards and their weapons. As the Stargate snaps out of existence, one of them shouts out and steps back, and the team fall back into defensive positions. They think I'm gonna shoot at 'em. _I_ think they're gonna shoot at _me_ as soon as they figure out who I am. 

Best to get out of here before that happens. I crawl as quietly as I can out of the puddle even as they begin to move towards my position, _dedinl's _at the ready. I'm now covered in a thick layer of wet mud that smells of leaf mould, which is surprisingly handy given that it adds to my camouflage. I move quickly to the left, behind the Stargate, then out to the right into the cover offered by the thick trees. There is a shout from behind, and suddenly a bright blue light suffuses the landscape, accompanied by an electrical _snap_. 

I pull myself down on the ground, hands over my head and face pressed into the dirt. They shot at me! Bastards, I HATE it when people do that. But the snap fades into a hum, and I raise my head warily. The blue glow is still there, and it's coming from behind me. I shift around to look. 

There's a faint blue light shimmering in a wall inches from my feet. It extends for a few metres either side then bends back around the Stargate. A force field in place to stop and hold unwelcome arrivals, no doubt - more of their hidden technology. It only took them seconds to turn it on, but they were too slow. I'm already outside the perimeter. 

Okay, I'm _so_ not hanging round here. I decide it's best to stand and make a break for it, crouching low and weaving side to side until I'm deep within the trees. A blast of orange light clips a branch above my head. Now they ARE shooting at me. Bastards. It's darker in here than out on the path, and hard to see where I'm going. I hit my injured hand and twigs catch at my clothes and hair. But I can still hear sounds of pursuit - it might be safe to assume that given the Frevians level of technology they probably have something that can track me. Damn. I'm gonna have to move fast. 

There's not much point in keeping low if they can see me anyway. I stand and run, which sounds simple, but in actual fact is not when you're waist high in ferns and can't see two feet ahead of you. There are more calls from behind, in the manner of 'halt!' and so forth, but I'm not halting. Crashing through trees and getting slashed in the face by leaves I have no way to avoid. I trip numerous times and feel my skin tear as I go down on a hidden rock. I heave myself back up and keep going. Another orange blast explodes against a tree before me, and sparks catch me as I pass. I brush them off, wondering if those things are like zats - one shot stuns, second kills - or if they simply blast you to atomic particles instantly. I could send a few bullets flying their way, but I don't want to accidentally hit someone (strange thing for someone in my position to be saying, I know) and beside I don't want to waste what little ammo I do have. 

I've been running for at least ten minutes before I see the trees start to thin. Frevia Four has two moons, both small purple rocks hanging in the sky. Also tonight, Frevia Prime, a giant blue planet looms above. Consequently, the ocean is rough with tidal disturbances and greats me with a roar as I charge out of the trees and onto the steep slope above the city. 

The city doesn't have too many lights on at night, but a few spots of illumination come from the larger buildings. I plunge down the slope full-pelt, knowing that the sooner I reach the city the better because if they are using sensors it's going to make it harder to spot me amongst other people occupying various buildings. If they aren't, well, at least I can use the streets to throw them off. 

I push through the last of the ferns and duck around a small house that backs onto the forest. My pursuers are circling round to try and catch me here, but I'm already out, leaping the stone fence and accompanying vines and skidding down the slope onto a paved road. 

It's around about then that I realised I have absolutely no plan whatsoever. Getting to the city was as far as I got. Figured that was the hard part, and that the rest would just sort itself out. The idea, I suppose, was to get the device off Father Nahibrim; only I don't have a clue where to find him. I could go to the temple, but the place is massive. I wouldn't know where to start looking, and that's provided the priests even spend the night there. In any case, it's where I'll have to head. If I remember correctly, it's over the other side of the rise ... 

Several dark figures appear on my right, silhouetted against the colourful sky. As I'm down lower they don't see me at once, but as I curse inwardly and dump myself off the side of the road they follow. 

I slip on the moist grass, tearing the neatly grown blades with my boots as I careen down the way, passing the rears of houses. The guards seem to be tracking me easily, I can see them off to the left, swiftly keeping pace. A few orange blasts pass over my head and one just before my knees, so close I can feel the heat of the energy. I guess they think I'm armed and dangerous and planning a terrorist attack or something. Not good. Before long they'll be calling in reinforcements. 

In any case, they're heading me off. I count at least four on my right, two on the left, one or two behind. I wish I had been able to grab a zat from the armoury instead of the PPK so that I could at least throw a few shots around without worrying about killing anyone right away. 

The slope drops away beneath me. 

I skid, clawing at the moist earth and grass, trying to regain purchase on something. I flip head over heels, automatically pulling my head into my arms as I roll. I'm free falling before I land, hard, on solid earth - and damn, it hurts. Can't breath ... and can't ... 

Shit. 

"Colonel O'Neill. You are under arrest, according to statute law. Do not attempt to escape custody again. You will accompany us, now, without hesitation. Do you understand?"

Could that light they're shining in my face _be_ any brighter? I nod, climbing to my feet and holding my gun up in surrender. 

"You will drop your weapon." 

I let it fall to the ground and kick it across to them. One of them takes it warily, and shoves it in his belt - I can't see too well in the glare, but I'm guessing there's three of them, with more on the way. I got no chance. I'm winded and bleeding and sore in so many different places that it makes the car accident look like a pillow fight. 

I'm scanned for additional weapons, but they seem wary of me even when they don't find any. Probably from the way I'm glaring at them. 

Nevertheless, they lead me down the slope, guards on either side, and down a long, winding road bordered by darkened buildings. We climb another of those long flights of stairs, and I realise that they're not taking me to prison; we're headed for the citadel. 

Reichert greets us as we emerge through the gate into the courtyard. He looks me over distastefully. It looks like he's just been woken up, and he's not too happy about it. He opens his mouth to say something but he's cut off. A figure steps through the shadows, then as if noticing me for the first time, stops short. 

_"You!" _

Not the kind of warm welcome I would have liked. "So," I say, keenly aware of the guards holding me upright. "How's the jaw?" 

Senator Melabinsan doesn't back down, to his credit. The bandages are gone, and he looks fully healed. "Colonel O'Neill," he sneers softly, walking around me slowly, eyes focussed on my face. "What a surprise. Come back to finish what you started? How about a fair fight, this time? Hm? Or would you rather simply shoot me with your primitive firearm?" 

Reichert looks between the two of us, and says nothing. 

In the dim light, his movements cause myriads of shadows to ripple across the stone walls and cobbled floor. The stupid smirking bastard. It would make me a very happy man to shoot him where he stands. And I'd just as easily take up his offer of a fight so I could pound his pretty little face to such a mess no technology would fix it. All I can see him doing is staring at Sam that way. Dancing with Sam. Sam never danced with me, and I don't stare at her like that. Wouldn't dare stare at her like that. But could quite easily stare at her like that. But come to think of it, staring apart, I've never asked Sam to dance with me. Why the hell haven't I ever asked Sam to dance with me? 

I shake my head free of these distracting thoughts and focus on the fact that Sam isn't going to be dancing with anyone ever if I don't somehow pull this off. So I move on the offensive, taking a step forwards, surprising the guards. The senator isn't quite as cocky as he looks, because he flinches the second I move. I snarl. "You know what, as much as your ego might try to turn this into some sort of bravado thing where I come back to shoot you because of the severe pain in the arse that you are, I'm here for Major Carter. Not you. Get over it." 

Pushing forwards slightly, and as expected, he moves back. 

"Hold him still!" Reichert says to the guards. "Put some binders on him." 

I lean in closer to the senator and lower my voice. "Now in saying that, I by no means imply that shooting you would not give me a lot of pleasure. But I'm on a tight schedule. I need to find a man named Father Nahibrim. Let me speak to him." 

Reichert snaps. "Binders! Now!" 

Bit edgy, aren't we? One of the guards reaches for his belt, lowering his _dedinl_ for a split second. I spin quickly, pulling myself from the second guards grasp and flinging myself at him. It's way too easy. I grab my gun from his belt, and man, it never felt so good to have a weapon in my hand. I aim it quickly first at one guard, then the other - just long enough to make them pause, then I'm facing Melabinsan again. I whirl on one foot, bringing me up behind him. I jam the barrel of the gun right up under his chin - mainly because I can't reach his forehead properly, I admit - and lock my left arm around his neck tightly. 

Melabinsan gulps visibly for air, trying his damnedest to look down at the gun which is just out of his field of vision. 

Reichert is mad now. "You're already under arrest, Colonel O'Neill. I would recommend..." 

"Shut up!" I can hear the shake in my voice and I try to calm down a bit. As much as I can calm down after just having taken someone hostage, that is. 

I shove the barrel in the mans face, using the anger at what he would have done with Carter to fuel my rage. "Dammit, there's a woman back on my primitive little excuse for a planet whose life depends on my getting what I came here to get. So I'm going to get it." I narrow my eyes. "Your going to help me, senator, because deep down, underneath all that sleaze and derision, I'm hoping there's some sort of a decent person who can realise that someone's_ life_ is on the line and that I'm gonna do whatever I can to make sure Sam lives. Father Nahibrim works as a healer. Show me where the healers stay." 

The man looks positively scared now. And he should be, because my gun ain't wavering. But he's not shutting up yet, probably trying to keep up the cocky act. 

"You like her, don't you." he sneers. "You couldn't even stand the fact that she was talking to me that week. I saw you, frowning at the edges of our vision every time we worked together." 

"Shut up." I say. 

"You actually think that she would be attracted to you? Your not even her equal. Samantha is a brilliant woman, and on an intellectual level she is closer to the Frevians than the Tau'ri, far surpassing you, Colonel. That she should even tolerate you as her superior officer is quite beyond my understanding." 

I grit my teeth, knowing that he is trying to goad me. It's working too, coz I'm ready to strangle the man. 

"Have you ever told her how you feel, then? Ever let her know? Somehow I think you're too much of a coward to put such a thing before your career, am I right?" 

"SHUT UP." Forcefully now. The man is so going to die if he doesn't quit it. "Call who you have to, Reichert. Get me Father Nahibrim. Now." 

Reichert gives a low-throated growl, raising his own weapon. 

"Fire at me, I fire at him." I nod towards my captive, who finally seems to be grasping the weight of the situation. About time. 

"I need a device called a venrai." I say. "That's all. I promise I'll give it back when I'm done and all. I just need to lend it. Rent it. Whatever." 

"We do not make deals with insurgents, Tau'ri. You will release Senator Melabinsan at once. You are outnumbered and we have the distinct advantage." 

All at once I realise that there is nothing I can do. I've failed. I can't get what I need to because this stupid stuck-up race has decided that while the Tau'ri are a perfectly attractive race, beyond flirting shamelessly with us, they're not going to do shit when it comes down to our alliance or helping us. Not now, and not in the future, be it a cure for the common cold or a Goa'uld invasion. And beyond screaming at them or the Governor or cursing whatever gods have an ear to listen, I can't do a thing about it because I'm only a step (or a trigger-pull) away from being thrown on their equivalent of death row. And then I'm certainly not going to be able to do anything for Sam. 

Sam, lying on that bed, so pale and still. It's not right. They can keep her alive on life support for as long as they can pump nutrients into her veins. But she's no longer alive if she's not up and talking, working on her reactors, typing at her computer, or excitedly blathering sciency jargon while effectively confusing the crap out of me and most everyone. That brilliant mind that Melabinsan here likened to the Frevian state of evolution or whatever? He's wrong, because Sam is not only intelligent, she's also compassionate and thoughtful. Something these people are clearly not capable of being. 

I lower the gun and release the senator slowly. He jerks away, gasping and rubbing his neck and tender jaw. He looks at me, wide-eyed with something I can't quite read. Then he looks at the guards surrounding us. 

"Stand down." he says softly. 

...the hell? 

The guards look at him. Reichert seems incredulous, a mirror image of myself. "Senator..." 

"Stand down." he repeats. 

"You cannot give my men orders!" Reichert looks livid. 

"I am not giving your men orders. I am asking you to stand down and move aside." 

"You can't do that. This man -" points to me, who looks like a stunned guppy, no doubt - "refused to cooperate with our laws, showed blatant disregard for your own life, and then demanded we yield to him our technology. You wish us to stand aside and let him pass?" 

Melabinsan waves his hand and goes on in a strained voice. "We can debate my authority later when I escort him to the prison complex. For now, you will allow me to call Father Nahibrim." 

He waves his hand, revealing a silver bracelet. "Send Father Nahibrim to the courtyard, and tell him to bring a venrai device." he speaks to it, then looks back at me. Oh, right, don't mind me; I'll just sit here with my loaded gun and wait for either Nahibrim to arrive, or for Reichert to blast my head off. One or the other. 

The priest does arrive, rather quickly, appearing in a flash of light from the transportation thing. He is dressed in his brown robes, but his hair is sleep-tousled. 

Reichert all but turns purple in the face as he stares at the senator. I'm staring at the man too, but he shakes us off, turning to the priest. "Will you give Colonel O'Neill one of the venrai devices?" 

Father Nahibrim looks slightly intimidated by all the eyes switching between him, me and Senator Melabinsan, but he nods. "Gladly." And he reaches into his robes and pulls out a small, flat piece of metal. He holds it out to me. 

For a few seconds I debate taking it for fear it's gonna blow up in my face, or more likely Reichert there will order me shot. But with the entire group looking at me expectantly, I reach out and take it. It's surprisingly light, and smooth, and cold like metal. 

"I will escort Colonel O'Neill to the prison complex, where we will wait to speak with Governor Laius so that we might resolve this matter." the senator goes on. "Reichert, if you will accompany us to ensure the colonel does not again violate our laws." 

He looks at me darkly, then at the senator, then back at his men. He gives them a signal, and they form two lines. I hold tightly to the device as if someone's going to change their mind and take it back. Father Nahibrim steps up beside me, and Senator Melabinsan appears on my left. Reichert gives us all the dirtiest of dirty looks. 

Father Nahibrim eyes me shyly. "Use the venrai device merely by placing the travellers hand on it. It works by interfering with the actions of the mind, and should not be used unless there is no alternative. In this case, I would give her perhaps two minutes of contact time at first. If there is no result in the next few hours, a prolonged exposure to it might be necessary. I should also warn you of the dangers of the device - there have been cases where the traveller fails to recover at all. In these cases they will most often die before they ever wake, as their spirit may be forced to take the other road. Use it only if you truly believe she is in danger, Colonel O'Neill." 

The senator gives Father Nahibrim a look. "If you would return to the hospice, Father." 

The little priest bows, and does as he's told. The senator leads me into the centre of the courtyard, where a large pillar stands. He touches it gently, and I do the same. As I guessed, its another zappy thing. 

But to my surprise, instead of inside a building, we appear in the jungle, the Stargate looming in the darkness. It's raining heavily now, drops spattering down every-which-way. I squint up at the senator. 

"So," I say conversationally. "Why the change of heart?" 

He looks as if he'd like very much not to have to answer that. "Samantha is a very exceptional individual, Colonel O'Neill. I found myself enjoying her company very much during her stay." 

Yeah, I bet you did. 

He goes on. "And," he pauses. "I would like very much for her to return someday." 

Ah. I see. "Well, I hope she does." I grimace, patting his arm. "Just - try to keep away from that Altheum stuff. Otherwise I might have to break more than just your jaw." 

He gives an uncertain smile. "She is a very special person, colonel. I hope that you deserve her." 

Uh oh. "Um," Draw a little gesture in the air. "We're not like ... not like that." 

He raises an eyebrow. "But you are ... 'like that'." he rubs his jaw tenderly to illustrate the point. 

I move to the DHD and begin to dial before Reichert can figure out we're not at the prison. As the chevrons snap into place, Melabinsan calls "I will speak with the Governor on your behalf. We may be able to rectify the treaty. It will take time. Please be patient." 

Somehow I don't think we're going to be seeing him again any time soon. 

_SAM: _

I'm smart. I figured out the Stargate, for God's sake. I not only designed a computer program to run a piece of technology countless thousands of years old that was missing it's counterpart piece of technology, I can remember hundreds of Stargate addresses in my head. I'm smart, and I know it. 

So why the hell am I still stuck here? I truly have no clues as to what the guardians want me to do. I need some answers. 

Anise stands straight and tall, her face impassive as usual. "Major Carter was trapped behind a force shield." she says. 

I watch Jack sitting in the chair before her, black band across his forehead and restraints on his wrists. "That's right." he replies, eyes straight ahead. Doesn't look at me through the window of the observation room. Looks at the empty space ahead of him. 

I've seen this before a lot of times. Replayed the scene over and over in my mind until it lost all meaning. I know what he sees. PX9-757. 

"Sir, there's no time." I call to him. From behind me come the footfalls of the guards. Fear races through my veins, and I turn back to Jack pleadingly. God, I'm scared. Tears sting my eyes as I curse the stupid armbands and the Tok'ra and... and Jack, who won't move! He attacks the force shield, ramming the haft against it as hard as he can, sending shimmering blue ripples across it. 

"Sir." He has to leave. Now. Why won't he listen? There's no time left. The C4 is going to blow any moment... leave, Jack, damn you! 

"I know!" he replies, turning his attention back to the control panel on the wall, attacking it with all his strength. 

"Sir! Just go!" 

"NO!" He whirls, facing me, angry as all hell and as scared as I am. His gaze softens as he looks at me through the barrier. I can't tear my eyes from his face. I'm going to die here. Going to die. Sir? Leave, now. I love you. Please. Love you. 

"What were you feeling?" Anise asks dispassionately. 

Jack looks pained as he recounts. "Like someone who was about to die." he pauses, remembering. "I didn't leave because I'd rather have died myself that lose Carter." 

"Why?" 

"Because I care about her." his voice is quiet now, quieter than I've ever heard it. "A _lot_ more than I'm supposed to." 

I wonder at the strength it takes for him to utter those words, and not because he doesn't mean them but because he _does_. Eyes fall on me, Janet's and Teal'c's gazes sympathetic at this having to be revealed here and now. The publicity doesn't matter to me though. Hardly notice it at all. 

Jack looks at me as he undoes my bonds. "Carter." 

I know what has to be said and I say it. "None of this has to leave this room." 

"We're okay with that?" 

"Yes sir." 

Things had been awkward between us for a while afterwards. After Martouf's death, of course, he had come to my quarters and talked me through it, even though I didn't need to be talked through it. He'd respected my need for solitude. But it had passed beyond that, into a kind of shadow that fell across us every time we met in the hallway, or sat across from each other in the briefing room. I'd thrown myself into work. That had helped. There were things to be done, and I had to do them. Jack did the same. It made it easier to talk to each other when we were discussing missions than when we were sitting in the commissary over lunch; in a way, a rift had grown between us and neither of us was willing to build a bridge. What didn't have to leave the room left that room, and wasn't going back or away. 

He had caught up to me in the passage one night. "Carter!" 

"Sir?" I turn. 

His hands are shoved deep in his pockets. "Whatcha doin'" 

"Um, sir? It's 2300. I was going to bed." 

"Right. Me too. I just... wanted to check that we really are okay. It's... it's not just me, is it?" 

I shrug and keep walking. "No, it's not." I say. "We got something out in the open then shoved it right back in the closet again. It's bound to make things difficult." I stop outside the door to my quarters. 

Jack looks very worried. "But we are okay, aren't we?" 

"Yeah," I force a smile, opening the door. "We're okay."

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(Okay? Heh. Hardly.) More to come ...


	8. Chapter 8

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 **BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Eight:_

**Disclaimer:** Stargate is not mine.

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_JACK:_

"Colonel O'Neill!" Hammond descends on me like a thunder head as I stand up from the bed in the infirmary. They had to pry my hard-won _venrai_ device out of my hands to put it in the lab for analysis before I'll be allowed to bring it anywhere near Carter, let alone use it. The nurse administering the usual post-mission check-up in Fraiser's stead scurries out of the way of Hammond's wrath. "Have you any idea..." 

I snap upright. I'm so wound up here that I can almost hear the adrenaline humming through my veins. "General Hammond, with all due respect, sir, this can wait. I need to go see Carter." 

And I step past him and head for the elevator, ignoring the nurses protests. 

"Jack." he follows me, barely keeping pace as I nearly make a break for it. "I understand completely why you did this." 

Of course you do, which is why it's gonna make it so hard to court martial me, yadda yadda yadda. I know. Just let me get to Sam, then you can string me up by my thumbs from the Stargate for all I care. 

"How did you manage to get it?" 

I look at him in surprise, and his look is resigned. I ponder how to tell him this. "An unexpected turn of events," I say tactfully as the elevator hums to life. "And a little elbow grease." 

"You didn't shoot anybody, did you?" 

I do my best to look affronted. 

He sighs. "You threatened to, didn't you?" 

"I merely helped certain people make a decision." I retort innocently. 

Hammond steps out ahead of me as the doors open. On seeing me, the airmen on guard look wary. Guess word go out about my little demonstration in the corridor, huh? Things like that have a habit of travelling. 

The ride down to the hospital is tense with silence. Hammond drives slowly, and my impatience only makes it seem slower. By the time we reach the Academy Hospital I've pretty much exhausted all of my nervous tension, but stepping out of the car heightens it anew. It's all I can do to keep from running into that room. 

Fraiser, Daniel and Teal'c are in Sam's room as I burst in. She looks, if anything, worse; her skin is so pale it's almost grey, and she looks way too thin and small. The electronics assure me she is still alive. There is no other indication. 

"Colonel!" Doctor Fraiser, thin-lipped and tired, and glares at me as she approaches and takes a look at my hand, giving me a reproving look. 

"It was worth it," I say, thinking of the prize. 

She gives me a cursory glance. "We're not using it on her until it's been cleared at the SGC." she says firmly. 

"Just make sure they clear it quickly, okay?" I take a seat, realising just how buggered I am here. I feel as if I've run a marathon. I'm too old for this. 

For some unfathomable reason, I'm actually glad that Janet harries me out of my uniform and into bed, and allow her to clean my scrapes and cuts with something that stings and frown over my re-injured hand and even give me a shot with only a token resistance to the medieval torture routine she calls treating the patient. 

I'm asleep before I've even closed my eyes. 

_DANIEL:_

General Hammond looked mad and I frankly don't blame him. Jack wilfully disobeyed orders yet again, and this time with pretty far-reaching consequences. I don't know what happened on Frevia, but right now I'm trying not to think of the mess this is going to be. We may even have angry Frevian officials knocking on our iris screaming for Jack's blood. 

Jack is lucky that Fraiser is refusing to let anyone near him, Hammond included. 

"So," I say, pointing to the device, which is shielded behind a clear barrier. We stand in Carter's lab, because it's the best-equipped on the base. "What is it?" 

One of the technicians sighs. "As far as we can tell, it's a piece of rock." 

The other glances up from the keyboard. "There's no trace of circuitry or - or anything that might suggest –" he frowns. "That it does _anything,_ let alone cures comas." 

The first one pokes the barrier with a finger. "It's made from some sort of mineral compound, containing trace elements of an unknown alloy. It's foreign to us, but apart from that," a shrug. "Really, I can't tell you anything else. The best person for the job would be Major Carter herself." 

"Well, it's fairly needless to say that's not going to happen." I say. "Can you at least tell me if it's harmless?" 

"As far as we can tell." they supply miserably. 

I move over to the shield. "Can we remove it?" 

"Should be safe." technician one says. "Colonel O'Neill said that the device was activated when in contact with an unconscious person. Just avoid touching the notch, which is supposedly the 'on' switch." 

The device feels cold in my hands, it's angular shaped edges hard. I tap it experimentally. Nothing happens. I run my hands over it to no effect. I look up at the techs, who are watching my every move. Nothing. 

I would hate it very much if this thing was a dud. If they passed off, picking an item at random here, some Frevian version of a Gameboy as a device that could help Sam. 

I put the device on the table and frown at it. "Father Nahibrim said that it could override the brainwaves, and interfere with the patterns that allowed the mind to believe that it was in the Ethera." I muse aloud. The techs glance at me, then away, unsure of whether they should listen to me or leave me alone. "The bodies systems and the brain are controlled through a series of bio-chemical impulses." 

One of the technicians nods. "Well, yes. Neurons in our brains forge pathways that convey electrical nerve impulses. It's how we're able to sort information, coordinate movement, remember things..." 

I whirl on the two bewildered techs. "Have you checked the device for some sort of electrical charge?" 

Tech one nods. "One of the first things we did. All things are made up of atoms, and atoms contain electrons, which gives _everything_ a faint electrical charge. But in most cases, like this one, the charge is too small to have any effect. There's nothing applying any voltage to get the electrons moving. It came up negative." 

"Right. Of course." Unless... 

"What about chemical charge? 

The second tech nods, realising what I'm saying. "The transmission from one neuron to another is achieved chemically, not electrically." 

The first tech returns to the computer, calling up the analysis he made earlier. "The chemical make-up of the alloy is one we've never seen before." he says. "There is a faint chemical charge being emitted. But it's so faint we dismissed it." 

"It might not have to be very powerful." I say. "Just enough to disrupt the chemical impulses that are causing the brain to keep the body in a state of unconsciousness." 

"It's a neurotransmitter," the first tech says, disbelievingly. "It stores an active chemical and releases it in the form of energy when it comes in contact with a persons skin. There must be some kind of interface with the nervous system..." he hurries over, carrying a set of electrodes which he sits on the device, and a small metre. The needle on the metre swings towards the right, and remains there. "Amazing. It's not losing any of it's charge. It must be completely regenerative." He looks up. " If this could be adapted to suit our needs, we could..." 

I hold up my hands. "Right now we only need it to do one thing." I remind them. "Then maybe you and Carter can work on this together." 

I can't miss the shared glances. 

"What did I say?" 

"Um..." tech one looks sheepish. 

"What is it?" I repeat. 

"Major Carter... doesn't really work 'with' people," he says in a low voice. 

The other man nods uncomfortably. "She, um, ordered us out of her lab last time we were working in accompaniment with her. We haven't been allowed back in since." he looks guiltily around the room. 

I try to keep a straight face and try not to think about what the two men had done to incur Sam's wrath. 

_JACK:_

There's no doubting that Daniel is a genius. I've always thought so myself, but with my usual concern for others I haven't told him because I don't want him getting a swollen ego. However, he definitely hears it now, though he just mumbles something about two lab techs who had an excuse to use Carter's equipment for the day. 

It's me, Daniel, Teal'c, Jacob and Janet in Sam's room. I look again at the device Daniel is holding from where I lean against the wall. 

"It's a what-now?" 

"A neurotransmitter." Janet enunciates. "Or, at least that's what it contains. How it releases the chemical into the bloodstream or nervous system is still a mystery. If this works, Sam should come out of the coma quickly and easily." 

"And if it doesn't?" 

"Well," Janet frowns. "The wrong type of chemicals entering her system could severely disrupt neurotransmission, rendering the brain incapable of controlling nerve impulses... possibly the effects could even damage inhibitory or excitatory impulses, the amino acids, such as glutamate and Gamma amino butyric acid..." 

"Doctor." I hold up a hand, and look enquiringly at the other members of the room. "Anyone care to translate that?" 

No takers? 

"Sorry, sir." Janet takes a deep breath. "She could end up with symptoms similar to Parkinson's disease or Alzheimer's. I don't know enough about the differences between Frevian physiology and our own to be able to make an accurate assessment of exactly how this will affect her. We don't even know if this will work." 

I clench a fist angrily. "So do we use it on her or not?" 

"Well, that's the question, isn't it?" Daniel puts in. "How are we supposed to decide?" 

Jacob is holding his daughter's hand loosely. "We have to try it." he says, voice soft. 

"I do not believe it would be wise to expose MajorCarter to such a thing." Teal'c disagrees. "It is potentially lethal. She may yet emerge from the coma under her own volition." 

Daniel looks to Janet, who shakes her head. "I honestly don't know what to do." 

"We can't just stand by and do fuck-all!" I snarl. 

"Calm yourself, O'Neill." Teal'c warns. "There are many things to be considered before undertaking this procedure." 

"Teal'c's right, Colonel." Janet replies. "We need to take some time and think this through." 

I know that, but thinking and taking time could cost Sam her life. I don't want to think about things, now or ever. I'm through with thinking. I'm just going to sit down on this chair here and ... God, my head hurts! 

"Jack, are you okay?" Daniel's voice cuts through the bright red pounding ache, as sharp as a razor. 

"Oh, I'm fine." My voice is muffled because I'm speaking into my hands. Just fine. 'Scuse me for a second while I get over just how fine I am. 

I can feel their wary gazes on me. O'Neill's finally cracked under the pressure, right? Sitting there in that chair, rocking like a loon. The lunch-time gossip over dinner trays in the mess will be 'did you hear what happened to old Jack O'Neill?' Poor man, what'd they go and drag him out of retirement for? Shoulda left him there.' Wouldn't have met Sam then. Make things easier. Isn't that what you've always wanted, O'Neill? The easy way out? Wasn't that why you were so willing to blow yourself up on Abydos? Because it was easier than dealing with the crap this life dishes out? 

Dammit. I don't want to think anymore. I feel so sick. 

"Just breathe deeply, Colonel." Janet's voice, carefully soothing as she clasps my shoulder. I look up with a start. She gives the others a look that sends them all, even Jacob, out the door. "Keep your head down." 

I do as she says, but I don't feel any better. 

"You've had a severe period of trauma. This is a normal reaction, okay?" She sits down beside me, holding my hand gently. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" 

I run a hand through my hair and try to breathe evenly. "No." I say shortly. "There's nothing to say." 

"I don't think that's true, Jack." 

I look up at her calm face. I close my eyes for a second. "I took the Senator, Melabinsan, hostage." I say. 

"The man you ... um ..." 

"Yeah." she's heard. "I would have killed him, Janet." I say. "I had the gun to his head ... a hair trigger ... and I would have pulled it. I would have killed him for what he might have done to Sam that night, and what he would do to Sam by not helping me. I wanted to kill him." 

She looks at me, understanding in her eyes. 

"I've killed people before." I go on. "It comes with the job. I have to protect my team. And I'd do it happily if it meant saving one of their lives. But I've never felt it like that before. Never. I just - wanted him dead." 

"Colonel - the safety of your team is paramount. We're all a lot closer than we're supposed to be. It's the way we work. And nothing can make killing someone in cold blood right, unless it's the absolute last and only option there is. But you didn't kill him." 

I shake my head. "If I had, he wouldn't have had the chance to help us." 

"You didn't kill him, Colonel." she restates firmly. "I want to give you a shot of a slight sedative, okay?" 

"In the arm?" I ask her pleadingly. 

"In the arm." she says, releasing my hand and leaving the room. 

I sit back with a sigh. I don't wish I'd never come out of retirement, not for a second. I can't regret meeting Sam, any more than I can regret meeting George, Teal'c, Daniel or Janet. Together they've made my life somewhere near whole again. Therefore I can't regret going to Frevia Four, because this resulting mess is what makes me realise exactly that. I just don't know what to do about it. 

_SAM:_

"Everything you've shown me so far has to do with my team. With what we do." I speak to the guardians, if their still around. "What is it I'm missing?" 

"That which is missed is often found, but that which is lost is less often discovered." The low voice intones. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snap. 

"Meaning is relevant only to the self, and cannot be explained by me or any other." 

"Fine. So, I've got a series of events that take place over my time spent as part of SG-1." I try to think. "The only connection between them seems to be ..." 

Suddenly I feel a wave of shock, like a solid wall slamming into me. 

"You seem distracted, Samantha." 

I'm back in the citadel on Frevia Four. Know this place off by heart now. I take the drink offered to me, but don't join in the toast. I'm too busy glaring at the Governor and Jack over there. 

I feel slightly queasy in the pit of my stomach. I look back over at Melabinsan, smiling cordially at me and inviting me to dance. Why did I say yes? It's plainly obvious now. I wanted to dance with him. It had nothing at all to do with how damn hot he was and who he was. It had everything to do with Jack doing his best to keep his eyes above Laius's shoulders and not succeeding. 

I set the glass down on the table nearby and lean against the wall in a sudden fit of dizziness. "Oh God." I say. The zatarc detector. The meeting in the lab. The ruins on P2Y441. This scene, the celebration on Frevia Four, replaying over and over again. 

Suddenly I'm being led out of the chamber, into the hallway. Pressed back against the wall as Melabinsan's mouth settles gently on mine. Kissing him back as the world rocks to either side, and hating myself for not being able to stop. Hating that it's him I'm kissing when all I can think of is Jack dancing with the Governor. 

Oh God.

"This is what you wanted me to see, isn't it?" I say, turning away from Melabinsan and facing the empty hallway. "This is it." 

"You have come to an understanding. This is progress." The reply comes as the hallway dims. "By coming to this understanding, you are healing the breach which divides your soul." 

I close my eyes and fight the urge to scream. "I was jealous because I wasn't the one Jack was dancing with, so I tried to make him jealous by letting Melabinsan do that to me?" I shake my head. "Im not that petty." 

Or am I? I know how I felt when I saw Jack talking to Laius. I know how I felt on PX9757 when Jack wouldn't leave and I thought he was going to die because of me. And how I felt as I watched him kiss the alternate me through the mirror. But I hid all that, then lied to him about it being okay. All the while lying even more to myself. It's definitely not okay. 

And I have to keep denying it, for the sake of regulations, for the sake of our careers, for the sake of ... of ... and when it comes down to it, I'm terrified of what might happen if I give in. If I stop denying. I'm scared that Jack might not see things the same way. 

And what about me? I don't want to sacrifice everything I've worked for my entire life. It's as simple as that. Jack and I can't be together. It doesn't work out, no matter how I look at it. 

"I can't believe I'm going through all this so that you can give me relationship advice." I say, and I'm back in the dark, lying on the hard surface. "You know what? This is ridiculous. Colonel O'Neill and I don't even HAVE a relationship. Not like that." 

"It appears otherwise." 

"No, it doesn't! We're colleagues, friends. We work together. It doesn't make any sense to let this stuff affect what we do." 

"It already does." 

I think of Jack's reaction to the position he found me and Melabinsan in. I _did_ want him to be jealous. And ... and it worked. My god, I used the senator to lure him into action. I ... I am petty. 

"I'm in love with Colonel O'Neill." I say softly, tasting the strange words on my tongue. "I'm in love with Jack." 

"You have reached the end of this journey." 

"I have?" 

"But your other journeys have only just begun." 

I open my mouth to say more, but before I can get the words out my vision blurs into obscurity. I try to call out, but nothing seems to work the way it should. The darkness, that horrible, impenetrable black void surrounds me, closing in. I think I may have reached a resolution, but before unconsciousness claims me once more I wonder: which of the two roads did I take? 

_JACK:_

Daniel has become acquainted with the hospital cafeteria, and is busy trying to convince Teal'c that the chicken rolls are actually a food substance when I find them sitting at a table near the window. Daniel is sipping a polystyrene cup of lukewarm coffee and grimacing at the flavour. Teal'c is eying the chicken roll as if it is about to sprout wings and start clucking. 

"Any news?" Daniel asks over the rim of his cup, then mutters. "Ah, this tastes like it's five days old." 

I shake my head. Teal'c has decided to go for the safer alternative of frozen yogurt. "Have you reached a decision regarding the _venrai_ device, O'Neill?" 

"That's a question with a lot of answers, Teal'c. A whole big bunch of stuff attached there." I sigh. "It's not up to me to decide. I talked it over with Janet and Carter's dad. If she doesn't come out of the coma in three days, rounding off the ten altogether, we go in and drag her out by the ankles, so to speak. To tell the truth, I'm not sure I want to try it though." 

"The possibility of frying her brain circuits? Yeah, I got that too." Daniel says. "Maybe it's best just..." he pauses, looking over my shoulder to the doorway. I turn and find a nurse there, clipboard in hand and beckoning urgently. 

My heart travels south at an alarming speed as the implications of this slam into me. What could have happened? What's gone wrong? Is she... oh, no... a panicked glance at the others, then I'm standing up so fast Daniel's coffee goes flying. I shove the chair aside and push my way through the other tables to the door, giving the woman a pleading look. 

"It's some sort of seizure." 

I'm very glad that there's a wall right there for me to slump against as I regain control of my muscular functions. No time for that. On legs that shake I run for the elevator, the others close behind me. Once in the elevator, I'm calm enough to start listening to what she's saying. 

"... hasn't come out of the coma. She's being given treatment as we speak but..." she shakes her head. Why do elevators always travel so slowly? The doors slide open and I'm out of there and running down the corridors, nearly colliding with several people and objects. I'm working on pure adrenaline here. Oh God Sam... 

I burst into the room and see Janet bending over her. There's a horrible screech of a flat-line heart rate. Alarms are going off as I'm pushed back against the wall as another doctor whizzes past. Sam is arched back on the bed, head pressed back into the pillow, her arms thrown back as she twists unnaturally. Things seem to move in strobe-light fragments. Daniels' hands clenched into fists. Jacob's cheeks wet with tears. Janet turns around and looks at us pleadingly. 

"We're going to have to try it." I say, forcing each of the words out. I pull the device out of my pocket and hand it to Janet, relinquishing responsibility of the task. She takes it and shoos the other nurses and doctors away from the bed. She takes Sam's hand gingerly, holding it against the spasms that wrack her from head to toe. 

She places the hand on the device, holding it there firmly. Sam jerks wildly, pulling unknowingly against her as Janet tries to touch her middle finger to the small notch ... and fails. 

Sam suddenly falls limp, and subsides back to the pillow with a faint exhalation of breath and - a smile? Not quite, but almost a smile. 

The heart rate monitor kicks in, measuring steady beeps. Janet tosses the device aside and looks up, amazed. "Her heart rate is elevated, but normal..." she checks a few other things. "Blood pressure..." 

We stand there in silence. Sam's hair, slick with sweat, is plastered to her forehead and her hospital gown has come loose and is baring one of her shoulders. "She's fine." Janet confirms my thoughts. "She's just... asleep." 

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Yay! 


	9. Chapter 9

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 **BURNING BRIGHTLY **

_Chapter Nine_

** Disclaimer:** Stargate is not mine 

**Authors Note: **here it is, sorry I took so long to get this up but I was swamped - literally - with uni work and haven't had much of a chance to work on this. Anyways. 

Thankyou all for the absolutely brilliant reviews, they make me feel special and keep me writing!! 

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_JACK: _

I've never lived through a longer seven hours in my life. Truly. I wonder if I should have someone from the SGC check for some kind of time dilation phenomenon in the hospital. The others went in search of food a while ago, led by Teal'c who has discovered a liking for low-fat peach flavoured frozen yogurt. Daniel however was willing to drive fifteen minutes in the pouring rain to find a cup of coffee that is served in a mug, not plastic or polystyrene. 

Jacob is sleeping. Now that she's out of danger, he finally left her side - though I suspect even now Selmak had more to do with the decision than his host did. 

Janet had to return to the SGC. Which leaves me, the only one who seemingly no longer needs to eat, drink, sleep or carry out duties of any sort, to sit quietly on my arse and think. Sam looks just as pale as before, and in the gloom created by the approaching evening she looks thin to the point of emaciation. It's probably due mostly to the shadows under her closed eyelids, but still... its frightening to sit here and watch her every intake of breath, wondering if she'll wake up now, or now. In a way I want to grab her shoulder and shake her. But doctors orders are that she be allowed to awaken naturally. 

So I try to sit quietly and not think too much, but I'm so wired that I can't stop the thoughts from bouncing around in my head. Her broken leg is healing slowly, but it's going to take a lot of time and patience before she will be back on duty. Perhaps even another month or two. Apart from that, she's in pretty good shape, Janet tells us. I can't even begin to explain how relieved I am, but at the same time the nervous tension has built itself into a mountain of anxiety. I can't sit still. I can't stand still. I move to the window, but I don't want to be looking away from her for even a second. 

I'm standing relatively near her when she does wake. At first there's no sign, but a gentle shift of breathing and a soft murmur as she stirs. I'm at her side in an instant, instinctively reaching for her hand but pulling back as I catch myself doing what a CO shouldn't be doing. Then I take her hand anyway and do what a _friend_ shouldbe doing, clasping it tightly. 

Her eyelids flutter open and she stares wordlessly at her surroundings, her eyes settling finally on me. 

"Hey, Carter." I say, unable to keep the stupid grin off my face. 

"Jack." she says, voice croaky with disuse. She holds my gaze unblinkingly, an odd expression in her eyes. Hell, the girl's just come out of a coma. I guess I can forgive a little staring. She struggles to sit up, but her face goes rigid with sudden pain and she ceases movement. 

"Easy there," I caution. "Just keep still, okay? I'm - um, I'm going to go get someone to page Fraiser." 

I suddenly realise I'm still holding her hand, running my fingers along her strong, slender fingers. She notices at the same time and looks down. 

Have to go get Janet, Jack. 

Now, Jack. 

My stupid body never listens to my mind. I bend down over her and hug her as tightly as I can without hurting her. It's so good to feel her solid against me and I press my face into her shoulder. "God, Carter." I whisper. "You scared the absolute shit out of me." 

"Sam!" 

Pulling back very hurriedly here. Haven't moved this fast since I was fifteen, I tell ya; I'm back over by the wall in no time, just minding my own business here. Oh, look everybody! Sam's awake. Lovely. 

I needn't have bothered, though. Daniel is giving almost as good a hug as I did, hampered only by Teal'c. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

"Im going to take her back to Cheyenne Mountain now that she's conscious." Janet informs us all. "She's going to need lots of rest, and physiotherapy sessions will need to be arranged, but now that the risks with moving her are reduced, I can treat her much more easily at the SGC. Hopefully she will be up and about in six or seven weeks, and back on duty in nine or ten. Until then I would suggest that she spend a lot of time resting, and I MEAN resting. I know she's going to want to work, sir, but that's going to have to be kept to a minimum. I would also recommend that she spend as much of that time as possible at home rather than on base, but she may need someone there to assist her." 

"I can arrange for a home help service," Hammond speaks. "And if -" 

"I can do it, General." I say, ignoring the looks the others give me (the same looks I've been getting since they walked in and found me plastered to my 2IC). I shrug. "Hey, I'm suspended from duty for a while, aren't I?" 

"That's true." Hammond consents. "Very well, if you think it's wise, Doctor?" 

Janet shrugs. "I can't see any problem with it, sir." 

I nod curtly, trying to retain some of my poise as Janet turns her gaze on me. "However I would recommend that you eat something. Don't think I haven't noticed you skipping your meals, sir. As soon as we're back at the SGC I want you in the commissary for a decent meal." 

"You want me to eat a decent meal," I mumble darkly. "And you're sending me to the _commissary_?" 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Sam sleeps for most of the time we're travelling, which is apparently a good sign. As Janet and her subordinates flutter around the infirmary, I sit as close to her bed as I can. Teal'c, Daniel and Hammond are continually dodging in and out. Jacob has been recalled by the Tok'ra, but will only be gone a few hours at the most. 

She shifts in her sleep, then moans quietly, her eyelids fluttering open. She looks around carefully, her eyes flitting over me. She quickly looks away. 

"How do you feel?" I ask. 

"Like death warmed up, sir." she croaks. 

"Want me to grab Fraiser?" 

She shakes her head. Still not looking at me. 

"Fraiser says you're going to be fine." I say. 

She shakes her head again, and she winces slightly at the movement. I know, Sam. You don't feel fine. 

"I had a dream," she says. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Please talk to me. Sam - look at me. 

She closes her eyes. "It was just a dream." she whispers. 

Doctor Fraiser appears, beaming over my shoulder. "Glad you're awake, Sam. Colonel, what are you still doing here? I want you to eat. Go. Now." 

Sam doesn't glance at me as I leave. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Despite my misgivings, I do head straight for lunch, and dump a tray laden with everything on the menu down across from Daniel, who is busy scribbling on a legal pad while simultaneously eating a muffin _and_ drinking a cup of coffee. 

"So how about that economic climate?" I quip. My mood is bordering on hyperactive. Relief will do that to you, I guess. 

He looks up blankly. "Huh?" 

I dig into my mashed potatoes, eating ravenously. I haven't even realised how hungry I am. "Whatcha writing?" 

"Oh, um this." he scratches his head. "It's an account of what Sam told me about what happened to her in the 'Ethera.' I thought I'd write it down so that if we ever re-establish contact with P3X-959 we can at least recompense Father Nahibrim." 

"She told you what she dreamed?" Oops. That came out a little sharper than intended. Sam still hasn't talked to me much since she woke up, and what she has said has been vague and ambiguous. 

"Well, not really." he frowns. "I get the feeling she left a lot of it out. She told me she spent a lot of time in the dark, on what she felt was a cold hard surface. She spoke to someone ... something ... called the 'guardians'. And that these beings had access to her mind, her thoughts and memories. It ... they seemed very interested in helping her achieve 'completion'." 

"Sounds interesting," I muse. "So was this Ethera thing real, or hypothetical, or metaphorical, or drug induced hallucination?" 

Daniel returns my gaze steadily, and I feel slightly ashamed of myself. "Quite possibly all three, and quite possibly none. I don't know, Jack. I really don't think it matters. She's alive and recovering." 

I'm silent for a long while. "She's alive." I repeat softly. 

_SAM: _

Walking is not supposed to be hard. Since our first tentative steps as children its something that is ordinary. It's not until you can't stand on your own feet, until your legs buckle under your own weight, until every single movement causes the most excruciating pain you have ever felt that it becomes something you no longer take for granted. 

I push myself up against the bars, using my arms to support my weight while I try to lessen the pain. I want to rest. It's so much easier just to sit. 

"One more length, Sam." the physiotherapist urges. Dammit, if she says that one more time... 

I take a deep breath and let it out, concentrating hard on putting one leg in front of the other. I try to remember the distance that a single step should be so that I'm not stretching or losing my balance. My left leg, the broken one, feels stiff and achy. My right leg is uncooperative after the lack of use for the eight weeks I've been off-duty and chair-bound. One foot in front of the other. Strangely enough, it's my right leg that crumples beneath my weight. I grasp at the bar to keep from falling. "Dammit!" I swear loudly. 

"It's going to take time," the woman says gently. 

"I know that! I KNOW it. God, I ..." I take a breath, realising I'm close to shouting. I feel so damn slow. I haven't been out of action for so long in forever, and I hate every second of it. That and General Hammond has barred me from entering my lab. I can't even run through some experiments to take my mind off it. Daniel and Teal'c have been assigned to SG-5 while Jack and I are off-duty, and I can't even try to have an intelligent conversation with anyone but Janet. I just... hate this. "I'd like to go home." I say eventually. 

The woman nods. "Your doctor - Fraiser, Doctor Fraiser, thinks you should be able to this afternoon. You'll be accompanied by someone who can help you, of course." 

" I don't need any help." I say. 

"Wouldn't be wise to be at home without it. Look, this is only a temporary thing, and your leg will heal; but in the meantime, you have to take it easy. Someone has been assigned to it..." she glances at her notes and raises her eyebrows. "A Colonel Jack O'Neill?" 

"WHAT?" I explode, nearly letting go of the bar in the process. "No, I mean there must a mistake... I mean, I really don't need any help. I can stay with my brother for a while. I swear, there's no need for..." 

"For me to drive you home?" Jack enters, stage left. Oh, God. 

He's dressed in a pair of cream chinos, a grey shirt on under his jacket. He gives a faint smile as he sees me. "Yeah, I know I didn't do such a great job last time I tried. Don't worry." the smile twists a bit. "Had my licence revoked for two months for speeding. Got off lightly considering..." Here the smile goes downright sour. 

"Jack, you don't need to..." 

"Carter." he snaps. "I put you out of action. Least I can do is make you dinner, okay?" 

It's so good to see him again. I can't explain even to myself how good. And yet I can't talk to him. Don't want to see him. Not after what's just happened. 

The physio woman senses something. She looks between us and sidles away. No! Get back here!

How am I supposed to get back into my wheelchair? 

I cling to the rails, the muscles in my arms burning. "Fine." I return shortly. 

"Need some help?" 

No. "I can do it." If I can get my recalcitrant legs to just move. It's only a few steps. Using the rails, I balance against the wall, supporting myself with one hand. I am not going to appear this weak in front of Jack. Ever. 

Ignoring the pain, I step. Step again. One foot in front of the other and all. Focus on where I need to get. The chair is only a metre away. 

"Carter ..." 

I snarl at the cautioning tone and force my way onwards. I take another step, and feel my leg begin to buckle beneath me. I throw my weight backwards, but too late. With a cry of pain I'm going down. 

My bad leg outstretched before me, I slump against the wall. Tears of anger spring to my eyes and I blink them away. Damn this whole thing. I've never in my life felt so helpless. 

Jack crouches beside me. "You're pushing yourself too hard, Carter." 

"It's just normal walking." I despair. "It's not nuclear physics, for God's sake!" 

He rubs my arm gently. "It'll heal." 

"It's taking too damn long, sir." I snarl, but rather spoil the effect by sniffling a bit. 

"I know the feeling exactly, Carter. I've broken my leg too, right?" Of course you have. You got to complain all you wanted during your recovery period after that disastrous Antarctic gate thing about my shoddy splinting job. "And various other things. My arm. Collar bone. Fingers. None of them are fun." 

Suddenly aware of his hand resting gently on my arm, I fidget. "Im not good at this waiting thing, that's all." He isn't moving the hand. I hope he doesn't move the hand. But he's looking at me with such intensity that I'm a little scared. 

Quietly, he says "Im sorry I did this to you, Sam." 

"Jack," I struggle for the right words and settle for the truth. "I don't blame you." 

"Maybe you should start." he goes on. "'Cause I'm sure as hell responsible. I just can't help -" his breath hitches. "Could'a killed you." 

I wish I could lighten the mood a bit, but what am I supposed to say? That I was just as scared to die? That I spent a lot of time thinking I was about to? Pass it off with a jovial tautology about 'take a lot more than a bump on the head to kill me, sir'? I shake my head and glance pointedly towards the wheelchair. "I think I might need a little help, sir." 

He smiles tightly. Leans over, wrapping one arm under mine and hoisting me up. Me gritting my teeth and doing the brave soldier act as he does so. Very close to Jack right now. Closer than I should be. 

Damn my stupid mind for dreaming up that Ethera place. Having acknowledged this thing is not making anything easier, that's for sure. It's as if, now admitted, it's certainly not going to be denied. And what am I supposed to do about it? 

How am I supposed to tell Jack that I'm in love with him? 

As he settles me in the wheelchair, I find myself suddenly longing for unconsciousness again. 

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This is the second last chapter - I think! The last one should be up soon, given that I'm not loaded with another bunch of essays in the meantime ...


	10. Chapter 10

**BURNING BRIGHTLY**

_Chapter Ten:_

**Disclaimer:** Stargate is someone else's as always.

**Authors Note: **Last chapter ...

I know Daniel and Teal'c don't get a lot of attention in this story. Actually it's one of the things I don't like about this. I love Daniel and Teal'c is my favourite character, but I have to admit they're both hard to write. I promise to give them more time in on the action in my next fic.

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_DANIEL:_

"What about Sam?" I ask.

Jack narrows his eyes. "I thought Fraiser told you Jacob was with her. Come on, Danny. Have you ever tried catching a bus with a load of grocery shopping?"

No, but then, I've never had my license suspended either. "I've already got to take Janet home, and Teal'c is staying with me again. I suppose a stopover at the supermarket can't hurt."

His eyes say thankyou, even if he doesn't manage to get the words out.

At least, that's what I'd like to think.

He shotguns the front seat, relegating Fraiser and Teal'c in the back with my books. Well, I have books in the front too, as he is about .... ah, as he has discovered.

"How are you holding up, Jack?" I ask softly, as soon as the doctor and the Jaffa have struck a conversation that suitably blots out our own.

He flips through a textbook on Ancient Mesopotamia while jostling with J. B. Bury for leg room. "Fine," he quips. "My wrist is ... great."

"I mean -"

"I _know _what you mean. I'm fine. Really."

Which means he's everything but.

He sighs. "We're all fine. Aren't we? We got through it."

We always do.

"Yeah, we're all fine." I say. For a while, Fraiser's description of the practice of acupuncture to Teal'c distracts me.

I drop Janet off to a bouncily happy but concerned Cassie, and we all spend fifteen minutes convincing the teenager that Sam is fine and that she can visit her sometime on the weekend. And so it is that the three of us end up wandering the aisles of Safeway. Jack insists on getting two trolleys. He reminds us that if you pile too much into one you end up with stuff being squashed. But with the amount he seems to be buying, I think we should have grabbed three.

I eye a garishly colourful display of coffee flavoured biscuits.

Jack frowns. "That's just wrong."

Teal'c eyes the display. "I do not understand this craving for such variety. Is not plain chocolate satisfying enough?"

I shake my head sadly. "They never taste like coffee anyway."

"Mushrooms," Jack mutters absently. "Mushrooms, carrots, broccoli, dammit, where's the fresh food section?"

I raise an eyebrow.

"Hey," he says, annoyed. "I never did shopping until Sara left me."

I point the way.

Jack searches the fresh produce thoroughly, subjecting the food to rigorous scrutiny before it earns its place in the cart.

"Where's the capsicum?"

I point.

"It's yellow."

I suppose it is, yes.

"Capsicum is supposed to be green or red. As in pizza topping."

Trying not to laugh, I lead him across to the green and red varieties, then knock his hand away when he reaches for the closest one. It's shrivelled and small. Teal'c moves a few around before handing him a perfect specimen, which sets him glaring.

"What are you planning to cook?" I wonder if it's a safe question.

"Stir fry," he says. "And fish."

"Asian?"

"Huh?"

"If you want Asian, they have some sauces over in the international foods. The instructions are on the label." Never mind that _I've _never been able to cook the damn stuff anyway.

Jack nods.

"Pans?" I prod. "Does Sam have the pans?"

He looks incredulous, and I'm forced to go on. "We'll get a frying pan as well. Don't forget vegetable oil for the stir fry."

We get through frozen food - something that we at least agree on. A bag of pasta and some pasta sauce, some dinner rolls and essentials later. Finally, the wine section. Jack baulks at the price of my recommended Shiraz and opts for the cheaper stuff so that he can throw in a slab of beer as well. Finally, bagged and payed for, we lug the lot out to my car and dump it in the boot.

"You going to tell her?" I say later, as we head towards his place.

He looks distracted. "Not really sure, Daniel."

"You should."

He gives a faint smile. "Right now I'm just glad she's letting me within five feet of her."

We fall into ponderous silence until he says at last. "Danny?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"It's fine, Jack." I say.

_JACK: _

"Sit DOWN Carter!" I say for the billionth time. "I've got everything under control."

"But you're looking in the wrong place," she protests. "They're under the bench."

"I can find the bench," I assure her, and continue to mutter on my way back into the kitchen. Actually, the entire house is so damned neat and organised I wonder if she gets someone in to clean the place while she's out on missions. Not even dust seems to settle on her furniture.

I slice the onions deftly with the located knife, taking care not to breath through my nose as their pungent fumes fill the air. Capsicum follows, and mushrooms. I don't pride myself in being able to cook, but I can do it. If I can find the stuff I need in the supermarket. Quickly chuck the lot in a frypan with some rice, and stir it briskly. I check the grilled fish, which is coming along nicely; add a few extra herbs, stir the rice again, and out of the corner of my eye notice Sam standing on her crutches near the side table, looking for the remote. She moves stiffly, her mouth in a determined line against the pain I know she feels.

"For cryin' out loud!" I leave the food and do a dash for the living room, stepping across the coffee table to forcibly restrain her this time. I grab her elbow. It's the slightest of movements, the smallest tensing on muscle beneath the skin, but she flinches under my touch. I pull my hand away just as quickly. "If you don't sit down, I'll call Janet."

"You wouldn't dare," she says, claiming the remote but hobbling back to the couch. I ignore the reproachful look and remember the food, sprint back into the kitchen and stir again. Plates... ah, in the cupboard. Knives and forks. TV dinner trays, because I ordered Sam to sit and I'm not having her get up and walk to the table, otherwise I might never get her back on that couch. Much as I hate to turn my gourmet cuisine into a TV dinner. Oh damn! Food...

It's okay, perfect timing actually. I tip the vegies and rice onto the side of the plates and place the fish artistically, arranging the lemon slices on the edge.

Sam is watching TV without any interest at all, staring blankly at the screen. I put her tray on the coffee table in front of her.

"You can cook?" she says incredulously, eying the meal suspiciously.

Insulted, I sniff haughtily. "You noticed?" I say defensively. "It's safe to eat." I take a bite of the fish to show her she's not going to fall to the floor choking. The herbs complement the flavour and nicely. The vegies and the rice are reasonably spiced, and Daniel's recommended sauce adds to the flavour somewhat.

Sam takes a dubious bite, balancing the tray on her lap. "This isn't bad." she says.

"I spent the evening cooking for you and it's 'not bad'?" Hell, I should have let her get home help. THEN she might appreciate real cooking.

It takes me a while to realise that she's trying to stifle giggles behind mouthfuls of the meal. "I didn't even know I had any herbs." she muses. "I don't remember buying any last time..." she trails off, realising that the last time she probably went shopping was before the mission to P3X-959.

"I bought them. Got some freezer-fillers as well, and some fresh vegies."

"You did my shopping?"

"I did _my _shopping. The fact that it's now in your larder is coincidental."

Sam sits silently for a while, eating the food and staring blankly at the screen again. It's a documentary on the solar system, a bunch of scientists sitting around debating the probability of there being another planet in the universe capable of sustaining human life. I used to watch these shows a lot. Now I can't stand to even see them listed in the TV guide.

As if reading my thoughts, Sam reaches for the remote and flicks the TV off. I can almost picture her saying 'Psht. Amateurs.' but she doesn't. No condescension on her part, not ever.

So we sit in silence. She finishes her meal and I take her plate and mine back out to the kitchen and return with two glasses of wine. I see her look. "It's cheap shit," I amend. "Ten bucks a bottle."

She takes a sip and decides I'm not lying. "This is horrible." She laughs.

I grimace and mumble. "Should have forked out an extra ten."

But we drink it anyway. It's almost dead quiet, but I don't know what to say. Seeing her up and around, laughing and looking more alive than she's seemed in weeks is incredible. I wonder just how close I came to losing her. I lost most of the good things in my life, and until they sent me through the Stargate to Abydos I figured it was all a great big conspiracy against me. Like I was actually that important in the universe that it would turn against me and give me good things before taking them away. I didn't want to let Sam become a good thing, because if I lost her it would prove me right.

But I'm NOT that important. I'm tiny, compared to what's out there. What I do makes a difference, but we don't know how big this universe is, and we know for sure there are countless other universes out there. So I guess the cosmos isn't out to get me.

Sam became a good thing a long time ago. She's a constant, a bright star, a part of my life. I don't want it any other way. I love her.

I look at her in the dull light from the living room lamp. She's lost a bit of weight during this, her cheeks hollow and her eyes rimmed with black. But she's still so beautiful.

"My dream was about you, you know." she says, turning her blue eyes on me.

"What?"

"A dream. I kept seeing you. I had to..." she swallows, turning away. "I had to admit something to myself, something I'd been denying. And I was denying it because I thought that if I acknowledged it I wouldn't be able to suppress it anymore. I've done a good job so far." she closes her eyes for a moment. "But I was right and it's getting harder."

Whoa. Um... did she just say that? I have no idea exactly _what_ she said, and yet I know what it is she's talking about. A sudden rush of feeling nearly overwhelms me. On impulse, I reach out and take her hand again, holding it gently. "Sam..."

She shakes her head, still not looking at me, but not pulling away. "I've been so stupid. I should never have let it get like this in the first place. I should have... but when I saw you with Governor Laius on P3X-959 I ... I was drunk, intoxicated or whatever it was, but it made me so jealous."

Is she kidding me? "Im the one who punched out a senator!" I protest. _She_ was jealous? "I might have even shot the guy if -"

She pulls her hand away and turns slightly so that she's facing away from me, tucking her hands under her arms. "Im sorry, Jack."

She's sorry? What the hell for? "What the hell for?"

"For this!" She says, angrily. "I didn't want to tell you, I don't want this to interfere with what we do or regulations or..."

"It already does."

She stiffens at those words, turning slightly back to face me. "It doesn't have to."

"No. No, it doesn't."

She closes her eyes then, for the briefest moment, taking a deep breath.

"Come on, Sam." I say lightly, leaning across the couch to wrap my arm around her. She falls into the friendly hug and I can feel her relax. My arms tighten around her involuntarily, one around her shoulders the other resting lightly on her arm. "It's not all bad." Some of it's quite good, actually. Like how this feels. It's as if its right. Absolutely right. I smile. "Would you dance with me?"

She shifts, her short hair tickling my chin. "What?"

"Dance. You know. Apparently you're quite good at it."

She pulls out of the hug and blushes. "My leg," she reminds me.

"It's okay. Slow, and I'll help you up. Just don't go straining anything."

She ducks her head and laughs, then sees that I'm still perfectly serious. I hold out my hand. She hesitates, then takes it firmly and I carefully lift her up, keeping most of her weight off her healing leg, my arms supporting her all the way. She winces slightly at the movement, but I trust her to let me know if it's too painful. She doesn't say anything except "This is ridiculous."

"Yeah," I agree, leading her out into the centre of the room. There's no music, but that really doesn't matter as I help her move gently, following the steps of the waltz-thing we learnt on Frevia Four at a much slower pace.

We dance. Sam holds my waist and my shoulder for support. I can feel every inch of her body where it touches mine, and I wonder if this was a good idea. Maybe I should leave now, before I do, say, or think something incredibly stupid. It's getting late anyway. And ... I don't want to leave. Never want to leave.

She pulls back slightly so that she's looking up at me. She feels for me exactly what I feel for her. Regulations can't stand between that, and neither can anything else.

I loosen my hold slightly so that I can raise my hand and smooth her hair back from her face. My hand has developed its own consciousness and moves of its own accord; sliding gently down her cheek, cupping her chin, coming to rest on the nape of her neck. All the while looking into her eyes. Incredible eyes, so startlingly intelligent but never intimidating.

She reaches first, breaking the moment. Reaches up to catch my shoulder and, closing her eyes, presses her lips gently to mine. The briefest of seconds and then she pulls away, looking down as if ashamed.

No way we can have that.

I lift her chin and kiss her. Longer this time, deeper, tasting the cheap wine on her breath. I pull her towards me, careful not to forget my support; the length of her is pressed against me and every part of me burns for her. What it feels to be able to do this...

Pull away when I feel Sam sag slightly, and guide her back to the couch. She's trembling, almost as much as I am. I intend to get her to the couch and retreat to a safe distance, but she pulls me down with her and I'm kissing her again, urgently. I'm scared I'm not going to be able to stop; I slide my hands round to hold her and pull away again, give as much distance as I can right now, which is all of, oh, about four inches. Even that's stretching things.

"I think I just made things more difficult." she says, still trembling slightly.

"Probably," I quip. "But its going to be interesting working it all out." The only thought in my mind is that with her leg injured like that she's not going to be able to put up much of a fight if I decide to drag her to Minnesota.

She laughs genuinely, lowering her head as she reaches out to stroke my knee. I don't need any more encouragement. I lift her back into the kiss and close my eyes. I can feel her beneath my touch. Everything I feel is right here, no longer hidden. No longer able to hide what is so strong, so right.

No longer hiding what burns so brightly.

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Well, that's it. Like or hate? Let me know what you think, please!

Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed and read this, you guys are great!

I've already started my next Stargate fic. You'll see it soon hopefully.


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